


Gods & Monsters

by BelladonnaWyck, raiast



Series: Family Matters [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathtub Sex, Blow Jobs, Comesharing, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Topping, Gentle Sex, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Incest, Lecter Twins, Lingerie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sassy Will Graham, Seduction, Shaving, Sibling Incest, Snowballing, Threesomes, Underage Drinking, Will is 17 in this but things started when he was 16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23173027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaWyck/pseuds/BelladonnaWyck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: “How long?”It’s as easy a question as any to start with, Will supposes, if not exactly the one he assumed his father would ask first - namely, what the ever-loving fuck do you two sick bastards think you’re doing?“Since he arrived,” Will admits, clearing his throat when his voice comes out husky and broken.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter/Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Will Graham/Nigel (Charlie Countryman)
Series: Family Matters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665787
Comments: 69
Kudos: 408
Collections: Hannigram Kinkmeme





	1. Gods & Monsters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonnimir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnimir/gifts).



> We want to thank the lovely jonnimir for a wonderful prompt in the Kinkmeme! We hope you enjoy the first installment of this verse that totally got away from us! Subscribe if you’re interested in seeing more from this trio!

It’s a monumentally bad fucking idea - even at seventeen, Will can see that - but then, he’s  _ seventeen. _ Hardly the one to be blamed in this situation if it all goes belly up. Not that Will would ever let his uncle take the heat himself, nor would his father take  _ any _ comfort in being informed that Will is just as culpable a party to the affair. 

Part of him, the same deeply buried part of him that finds it ever so odd that his father always seems to be out of town for this conference or that lecture the same weekend the Chesapeake Ripper decides to stir from his slumber to strike again - not that Will is anywhere  _ near _ ready to unpack the ramifications of such a correlation - suspects that his father might actually  _ kill _ Nigel if he found out, brother or not.

It doesn’t stop meetings such as this. Makes them - admittedly, perversely so - even more exciting.

“Jesus  _ fuck, _ gorgeous. You been walking around town with this hidden away all day?” Large, greedy hands glide over the one piece negligee his uncle discovered upon peeling Will out of his prep school uniform; his rough calluses snag the lace before abandoning it to skim over the tender flesh of Will’s thighs. The design is a fine filigree, a spiderweb network of lines criss-crossing over his creamy skin, the black stark against the paleness of his young body. 

Will’s lips pull into a smile as his arms stretch out overhead, and he bows his back to arch into Nigel’s touch in a way he knows drives his uncle crazy. He sprawls out against the blood-red sheets, his entire body on a flagrant display while his uncle hovers over him, still mostly dressed. His chest is covered in thick, soft hair and Will  _ wants.  _ He loves to run his fingers through it in lazy circles and just relish in the closeness. 

He lets his thighs fall open a little further, displaying the obscene bulge of his aching cock trapped in the frilly crotch of the elaborate piece he’s wearing, hoping to entice the man to touch him there.

He does, predictably, a carelessly possessive hand cupping over him entirely and pressing down, and Will sighs out a little moan and works his hips up into his uncle’s touch. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you today.” Nigel is so much closer now, Will feels the gentle scratching of the other man’s pants against all his exposed skin.

He shivers as Nigel’s unimpressed huff paints warm breath over his chest. “You knew I was coming to dinner, you little shit.” Admonishment aside, Nigel closes the distance between them and runs his tongue over one of Will’s nipples, teasing the bud with tongue and teeth through the sheer mesh material of the lingerie. “Not that I don’t appreciate the aesthetic,” Nigel murmurs, hands alternately caressing Will’s torso and tugging at the black straps that cross it, “But how the fuck do I get you out of this thing?” He growls the question into the crook of Will’s neck, questing fingers turning their attention to Will’s ribs playfully.

Will giggles and writhes beneath the older man, brings his hands down to glide through soft, unkempt hair, guiding their lips together. “Why the rush?” He sighs against Nigel’s mouth when their kiss ends. “I’ll be going off to college soon, and you’ll regret not taking your time with me when you could,” he teases with a knowing smirk.

“The  _ rush, _ you absolute horror, is that I’ve  _ come over for dinner. _ Which means unless that consists of you surprising me with some pre-packaged boxed meal hidden away somewhere, or me ordering us a pizza,  _ your father _ will be joining us at some point this evening.”

“It’s barely  _ four,” _ Will soothes, tipping his hips up to grind into Nigel’s where they’ve settled over him. “He’s got patients until six.  _ Relax. _ ” He arches his back one more time, sticking out his bottom lip and affecting a pout to glower up at his uncle.  _ “Play with me.” _

Something dangerous flashes behind his uncle’s eyes and it makes Will shiver with arrogantly gleeful anticipation. He loves to rile Nigel up, loves to take in all his passion and rage and love, all of them bordering on obsessive. Will sees a dangerous predator when he looks, when he  _ really looks, _ at both his uncle  _ and _ his father. But he knows he’s safe both from and with them. Even with that knowledge, the potential danger only adds to the thrill.

Nigel doesn’t hesitate; he leans low and licks over Will’s pulse where it pounds beneath the exposed flesh of his neck, his body all lithe and lean muscle. He feels smaller when he’s underneath Nigel, even though he isn’t that much shorter than the other man. Nigel’s weight is soothing above him, but also inescapable. He could take whatever he wanted from Will and Will would simply have to  _ let _ him. 

Will moans, loud and long, as Nigel bites down on his neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, he never leaves visible marks, but enough to sting. He trails bites and rough kisses down to Will’s nipple, closes his teeth around it and  _ pulls,  _ drags it away from Will’s body harshly enough that Will’s back arches again, pressing up into his uncle’s punishing mouth. 

“You are fucking filthy, sweetheart. Always so goddamn desperate for it. For  _ me _ ,” Nigel teases and grinds his cock against Will’s lower abdomen, his zipper getting caught in the delicate lace and  _ snapping _ through it.  “Nigel, _ please,”  _ Will begs He knows he asked for this and trusts Nigel to deliver, but he doesn’t imagine his uncle will have the patience to truly go slow. 

“You want me to take my time, baby? Want me to rough you up a bit before I fuck you hard and fast, just like you like?” Nigel’s cock is hard and pressing firmly to Will’s stomach, so wet at the tip that it soaks through his pants and leaves sticky trails across Will’s skin. 

“Uncle Nigel!” Will sobs when Nigel stuffs his hand back between them and  _ squeezes  _ against Will’s cock roughly, the gentle, loving caresses abandoned to the past. It had never been soft with them, really, even in the beginning when Will had coaxed him with a liquor-laced coquettish smile and sweet words his uncle had ravished him. Left him wet and shaking and wanting more. 

Will could play dirty though, knew Nigel loved it when Will reminded him of their relationship. It wasn’t necessarily the taboo that made it so hot for Will; he just had a thing for strong men who could fuck him the way he wanted. His psychiatrist father would probably have plenty to say on the matter, not in the least regarding the fact that Will is regularly giving it up for his  _ identical twin, _ but that’s another issue Will doesn’t particularly feel like diving into at the moment.

A cloud passes over the sun outside his window and the only light in the room spills in from the hallway, Will’s door still flung wide open. At the rate they’re going, they’ll be finished well before his dad gets home anyway. 

Nigel growls against Will’s chest, sucking another blooming bruise into the skin just beside his nipple. Will’s entire body draws taut and then falls lax as Nigel flips him onto his stomach, belly pressed firmly to the bed and legs still spread wide and wanton. 

With no preamble, Nigel presses his lips to Will’s hole where it flutters beneath the thin lace, licking warm and wet up his crack, dragging his tongue against the fabric. 

“Oh,  _ Jesus, _ ” Will sobs, his face buried in his pillow and his body desperately attempting to sort out whether his hips should grind his aching cock  _ down _ into the mattress or thrust his ass  _ up _ into Nigel’s skillful mouth.

“ _ He’s _ not gonna help you,” Nigel growls into his skin, punctuating this statement with a harsh nip to the globe of Will’s ass cheek. “It’s only me and you, darling.” 

His hands glide up Will’s flanks and then settle over his mid-back, finding the secret to removing the skimpy fabric still separating them. His fingers undo the clasp with ease and then reach up to tug the straps that rest over Will’s shoulders down his arms. Will shimmies his body as Nigel peels the get-up off him, trembling at the sound of the man’s satisfied rumble when Will is finally bare to him. He grips both of Will’s cheeks with large, rough hands, spreads him open, and then dives down to lick at him properly.

“Oh, fuck…” Will groans at the assault, shocks of pleasure spilling down his spine every time Nigel’s tongue breaches his rim. “Fuck, okay, I changed my mind. Just fuck me. Please,  _ please _ fuck me.”

His stomach twists at the sound of his uncle’s dark chuckle; it’s a dangerous thing, to tell Nigel exactly what he wants - it usually ends with the man systematically torturing Will by doing everything but. Relief floods him this time, as what  _ Will _ wants and what  _ Nigel _ wants is in perfect alignment, and his uncle has been known to be even more impatient than Will ever is. 

“Get up, gorgeous,” Nigel commands gruffly as he pulls away and shuffles up the bed. Will lifts his head from the pillow to see that he has settled with his back against the headboard. “You want my cock so bad, you’ll have to work for it. Hop on, sweet thing.” He’s slowly fisting his fat, red cock, revealing how wet he is with each drag of his foreskin. When Will meets his gaze, Nigel flashes him a wolfish grin and reaches into the nightstand next to him for Will’s bottle of lubricant.

Will can’t stop his smirk as he hastily pushes himself up and clambors into his uncle’s lap, taking the small bottle from him so Will can slick him up himself. There’s something incredibly perverse about how small his hand looks wrapped around Nigel’s considerable girth, how big his cock looks in comparison to Will’s delicate fingers. Will loves administering teasing strokes and opening his mouth so wide around it that his jaw creaks almost as much as he loves being stuffed full of it.

“I’m glad you left Romania,” Will sighs, the sound morphing into a pitchy moan as he lines himself up over Nigel’s cock and slowly sinks down, deliciously full as his flesh parts around his uncle. Nigel’s arms wrap around his slender frame immediately, hauling him closer so that they are chest to chest.

“You can’t know how much I agree with you, gorgeous,” Nigel groans into Will’s neck. “What the fuck was ever in Romania, anyway? Fuck Romania.”

They both know what was in Romania - the same thing that caused Nigel to leave it - but neither of them have uttered her name since that very first night, when his uncle was a stranger in a foreign land, sleeping in their guest bedroom and looking after a sixteen year old Will while his father was away for the weekend at yet another  _ conference _ .

Many times, at the beginning, Will would watch his uncle, desolate and heartbroken and moving like a ghost through the halls of their brownstone, and become filled with the fanciful urge to run off to Romania to track the cunt down, to tell her exactly what she gave up, what she destroyed, and to destroy her in kind for ever daring to hurt his family.

Many more times, he’s given silent thanks to the heartless bitch for sending his long lost uncle into his life and - after spending that first weekend commiserating with the man while they drank his dad’s pretentious brandy straight from the bottle - his arms.

“Fuck,” Will whimpers, feeling split open where his legs spread wide on either side of Nigel’s lap, strong arms encircling him and helping keep him steady even as his thighs shake and quiver from the strain. 

“Feel good, baby? You just love being stuffed full of my cock, don’t you? Such a good little slut for your uncle, hm?” Nigel wraps the fingers of one hand in Will’s sweaty curls and pulls him forward for a bruising, toothy kiss as he grinds himself deeper into Will’s body, cock pressing to Will’s walls and against his prostate relentlessly already. 

He remembers that first time, his first orgasm from anything other than his own fist. He’d been a virgin when he’d gone to Nigel, all angelic curls and a wicked grin. He’d been horny and restless, an overwhelming and wholly irritating  _ itch _ just beneath his skin that Will somehow knew could only be satisfied by the weight of his uncle atop him. He’d been undeniably pleased at how little encouragement Nigel had needed to put his hands on Will, easily persuaded as soon as Will found the courage to slide into the man’s lap.

Will fights against the hold on his hair so he can start up a smooth tempo, rising up and falling down on Nigel’s lap like he’s paid to do it. Nigel doesn’t ever treat him like he’s delicate or breakable; he treats him like a five dollar whore and fucks him until he’s breathless and begging at every opportunity.

It’s been a while this time; Will has been too busy with the final stages of his senior year and preparing for college to slip over to Nigel’s apartment, and his dad has had fewer engagements keeping him out of the house, miraculously around the same time that the Ripper has gone silent. But Will still isn’t thinking about that, too caught up in the wet squelching sounds that rise up with each downward thrust of his hips and the harsh panting breaths that spill across his face and neck as he rides Nigel harder. 

“I missed you Uncle Nigel,” Will purrs, bites his lip and drops himself back down onto Nigel’s lap, staying there for a moment while he makes lazy figure eights with his hips, not able to stop the little gasping inhales each time Nigel rubs his prostate just right. “Love it when you fuck me.”

“That’s cause you’re a fucking whore, sweetheart.” Nigel growls, digs his fingers into Will’s hips until it  _ hurts  _ and Will still wants more. 

“Fuck me harder, please, Nigel. I  _ need it.”  _ He begs, throwing his head back in euphoria. When his eyes flutter open again he catches sight of his dad standing in the wide open doorway and his heart skips several beats. 

He scrambles off Nigel and grabs his duvet, pulling it up his exposed body, cheeks flushing in a mix of fear and embarrassment. “Dad! I can explain- ”

For the first time in Will’s life, Hannibal is  _ rude,  _ and interrupts Will before he can continue. “Get yourselves civilized and meet me downstairs.” 

He’s gone before Will can stutter out another word, and in the following seconds Will can’t be certain if his heart stops beating altogether or if it’s slamming at such a breakneck speed in his chest that he simply no longer feels it. He turns wide eyes to Nigel, whose head is tipped back against the headboard in defeat with his eyes screwed shut. “ _ Fuck.” _

Nigel heaves a sigh, but fixes Will with a calming look and reaches out to him, “It’ll be alright, darling.”

Will yanks out of his reach and abandons his blanket to scramble off the bed and stalk to his dresser on trembling legs. “No, Nigel, I don’t think it will. My dad just caught me  _ fucking his brother, _ so I am really struggling to see  _ how _ it’s going to be  _ okay. _ ” He knows that he’s talking too loud, his voice pitching with an edge of hysteria that can probably be heard by his father all the way downstairs. 

He yanks on a pair of sweats and gives a helpless groan when he realizes his traitorous dick is still hard and tenting them obscenely. He kicks them back off and grabs out the first fistful of lacy panties from the top drawer that he gets his hands on. They will feel woefully out of place against his skin, given the situation, but will at least have the positive effect of trapping his erection closer to his body. 

When his dick has been confined, he pulls the sweatpants back on and retrieves a plain, white undershirt from his second drawer. He realizes as he’s pulling it over his head that it’s one of the slightly too-small ones he keeps meaning to get rid of, but tugs it on the rest of the way regardless.

He’s pleased and relieved to see that Nigel, in the meantime, has donned his own jeans, but though he’s pulled on that ridiculous dachshund shirt of his, he’s opted to leaving it unbuttoned; his broad chest is still on display to Will, the rug of coarse hair that covers it just begging to be petted.

He stands in his doorway for a moment, equally unsure if it will be better to go get this confrontation over with or if he should dally as long as possible, because  _ surely _ his life will never be the same afterwards. Nigel settles a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Will  _ hates  _ that his first reaction is to shrug it off, feels terrible immediately for doing so. He spins in place and throws his arms around his uncle, squeezing tightly as he buries his face in the man’s neck, memorizing his scent.

He should tell Nigel that he loves him, he knows he should, but he just can’t make his lips and tongue form the words. It feels like trying to speak a language he’s never seen before, his tongue tripping over unfamiliar sets of consonants and vowels until all he can manage to croak out around the lump in his throat is, “Let’s go.”

They follow the sounds of his father to the kitchen, his haven in all things - even things as absurd as this, apparently - and Will stops short and seizes Nigel’s hand to slow his pace as well when they walk in and Will’s eyes fall to the considerable blade in Hannibal’s grasp. He’s only using it to dice vegetables at the moment, but Will’s stomach twists and plummets as he recognizes the sick assurance that it may very well be used for much more than that by the time the evening is over.

He doesn’t even look up from the peppers he’s slicing julienne, though Will can see his anger in the stiff line of his shoulders, the whitening of his knuckles as his fingers grip the handle just a little too firmly. He can’t stop the small jolt that shocks through him each time the blade meets the cutting board with a forceful  _ snick. _

“How long?”

It’s as easy a question as any to start with, Will supposes, if not  _ exactly _ the one he assumed his father would ask first - namely, what the ever-loving  _ fuck _ do you two sick bastards think you’re doing?

He could lie, say that it’s not been going on long, but Hannibal Lecter would be able to sniff out the untruth easy as anything. He could plainly see - and hear, depending on how long he was at the door - that the two of them are  _ quite _ comfortable with each other, which is something that could only come with time and experience. Even if Will managed to utter something halfway convincing, there’s no keeping such things from the man that raised him. He would see the lie in the flush on Will’s cheeks, the dilation of his pupils. He would hear it in Will’s faltering heartbeat and  _ smell _ it on his skin.

“Since he arrived,” Will admits, clearing his throat when his voice comes out husky and broken.

_ That _ gets Hannibal to glance up, knife finally stilling as he finishes with the last of the peppers. “Since you were  _ sixteen _ .”

If possible, Will feels himself flush even further. Jesus Christ, if his father didn’t think he was a whore  _ before… _ “Yes, Sir.”

“Do you have anything to add?” Hannibal’s eyes move briefly to Nigel before they focus again on the cutting board, and suddenly Will wishes he would look at him like he had last night when he’d been proud of Will’s latest grades. 

Before Nigel can reply, Will interrupts, steps closer to his father and puts himself between the two of them. “Dad, it isn’t Uncle Nigel’s fault. I got him drunk and came onto him.”

If Hannibal Lecter were a lesser man, Will knows he would scoff. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t. He  _ does  _ pause in his slicing again, eyes burning into Will. “Every time for the last year you got him drunk? He appears perfectly sober and of sound mind to me right now. He’s your  _ uncle. _ And  _ you’re _ still a  _ child _ .”

An eternally unamused snort wrenches free from Will’s throat. “I’m sorry, is the  _ Chesapeake Ripper _ really playing morality police right now?”

His father’s seething glare shoots to Nigel, who immediately throws his hands up in an affectation of innocence. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t say  _ shit. _ He’s a smart kid, Hanni.”

The slow blink that passes on Hannibal’s face now is what Will has come to call his  _ recalculating  _ face. His brain follows so many pathways at once, and this is the face he sometimes makes when he’s recalibrating from a previous mental route. 

“Do you really need to put your cock in everything that moves or breathes, Nigel?” He asks with a long-suffering sigh. So it appears his father has decided to ignore the little reveal and focus on the issue at hand. Will notes his distinct  _ lack _ of denial and files it away for future examination. 

Before Will even has a chance to formulate a response, Nigel replies. “You didn’t seem to mind where my cock went so much when it was  _ you _ on the other end of it.”

Hannibal’s knuckles go white around the handle of his knife and, for one crystalline moment, Will sees in his mind the image of that same knife imbedded in Nigel’s chest and he lets out a startled cry that pulls the attention of both men to him. 

“Please don’t hurt him, dad. He didn’t  _ do anything _ that I didn’t want. I asked for it, all of it.” 

His father studies him silently for a moment, eyes flicking to Nigel before he returns his attention to the tomato now on his cutting board. “You should appreciate the fact that fate saw to make you an only child, William. Nothing is your own when you have a sibling.”

The last comes off so bitter and childishly petulant that Will can only stare at the man. He’s waiting for the interrogation to begin again, but it doesn’t, so he’s left just standing in the kitchen, next to his uncle-turned-lover while his father, who not ten minutes prior caught them in the throes of sex, peels tomatoes.

Will always knew he came from a strange family, but _ Jesus Christ. _

“Holy fuck.” The utterance draws Will’s attention to the man next to him. “You aren’t fucking  _ pissed  _ at all. You’re goddamn  _ jealous.”  _ Nigel’s grin grows teeth and he takes a bold step forward, Will shifts immediately to keep himself between them. “Thing is though, I wonder  _ who _ exactly you’re jealous  _ of,  _ brother? Me? Or your little slut of a boy? Or maybe it’s a bit of both.” 

Will’s gaze bounces between the men, beginning to feel a bit like an owl each time his neck cranes one way or the other. He can see the obviousness of his dad’s jealousy when he looks back to him, the expression so easy to read now that he knows to look for it. In that moment, Nigel’s earlier comment resurfaces in his mind, and Will finds himself struck dumb as his very vivid imagination inserts the twin brothers into all sorts of sexual scenarios. His arousal, having been fairly successfully quelled by the mortification of what was happening, makes a commendable resurgence as the picture of his father bent at the waist and taking his brother’s cock while Nigel fucks him like an animal, takes centerstage in his mind.

"He’s spectacular, you know.” Nigel announces to the silent room, and Will feels himself flush, both preening at the praise and appalled that his uncle just doesn’t seem to sense the ridiculously thin ice he’s treading. “All eager enthusiasm when he sucks you down and so hot and tight when you slide inside you'd swear he was made just to take your cock. Makes the sweetest little sounds too; your boy really is a grade-A whore, brother."

Will’s heart pounds in his chest when he comes to recognize the anger has fled Hannibal’s features, his mouth downturned at the edges and brows furrowed slightly in an expression that Will can only guess is a combination of intrigue and  _ longing. _

_ Holy shit. _

He’s back inside his mind, his own self now shamelessly inserted into the fantasies that had just been playing out behind his eyes of the two older men. He wonders if his father would be rough like Nigel, or if he’d choose to showcase his strength and power over Will in a more subtle way; wrists pinned to the mattress, held down only by the weight of his body stretched along Will’s own, dark gaze boring into Will as he takes his time fucking him slowly, just daring him to try to struggle, try to fight back...

He moves on light cat-like feet, skirting around the marble island that separates him from his father. He’s never looked too closely at a lot of things in his life. Never considered  _ why _ his uncle was so appealing to him apart from the draw Will feels towards danger, never considered why he was so fascinated with the Ripper. Never thought too much about his dad’s clear connection to him. 

But he thinks about all of that now, leaning against the island with his hip popped out and a little pout on his plush, still bruise-swollen lips. Thinks about how maybe his fascination with his uncle stemmed from somewhere even closer to home. “I didn’t even get to come before you got home,  _ daddy.  _ I can feel it itching, just under my skin. And it’s not like there isn’t plenty to go around, right? Didn’t you teach me sharing in, like, first grade?” 

The sound Hannibal makes in his throat at that is somewhere between a growl and a moan, his eyes flashing but never leaving Will’s face. 

Until Will stretches his body in a feline arch, pulling his arms up above his head and twining them together, the lace trim of his panties peeking out above the slouching waistband of his sweatpants. He’s hard again, his cock straining against the confines of the lace, the delicate material making a valiant effort to keep his erection trapped. 

His stomach buzzes with excitement as he realizes the bait has been taken, his father’s gaze falling down the length of his body. When he pulls his gaze back up to his face, Will is pleased to see a slight flush coloring the fine cut of his father’s cheekbones. He finishes the stretch by looping his arms around Hannibal’s neck - as he’d done so many times in his childhood - and arches forward until their bodies are pressed together.

“I’m sorry you felt left out, daddy,” Will murmurs with sultry contrition. “It doesn’t have to be that way.” He dips his head forward to nuzzle beneath Hannibal’s chin. “Come upstairs with us,” Will urges softly as he pulls back, one hand falling to Hannibal’s to gently encourage him to set his knife down while the other drags coyly down his chest. “I’ll show you all the things Uncle Nigel has been teaching me.”

Will pulls on his dad’s hand enough to entice the man to follow, blows a kiss at Nigel on the way and smiles when the other man winks and follows behind them. 

Hannibal pulls ahead of them and bypasses Will’s bedroom altogether, pushes open the master bedroom door and leads Will to the edge of his obnoxiously large bed, far too large for a single man to possess. 

Nigel and Hannibal speak in low, whispered Lithuanian to one another behind Will as he stands frozen at the foot of the bed, a bed he hadn’t been in since he was an  _ actual _ child, not even yet five years old and freshly without a mother. 

He used to be so scared of the monsters that could lurk just underneath the bed, tucked behind the frame and threatening to devour him whole. Now he was about to be  _ in  _ the bed with actual monsters, and he’d never been less afraid in his life. 

The brothers had stopped talking in their native tongue - Will really should continue his practice of the language, his minimal skills rusty with disuse - and are now looking at him like they want to consume him. Monsters indeed. 

“You should sample a bit of everything, Hanni. Your boy loves getting fucking used up. He has practically no gag reflex unless you get really rough with him, but he loves that just like he loves everything else.” Nigel steps around Hannibal and caresses Will’s cheek lovingly in his warm, rough hand before slapping him across the face hard enough that Will’s head snaps to the side. 

He lets out a whimper, cock already painfully hard between his legs and he’s only growing more desperate as Nigel continues talking about him like he isn’t even there. Nigel never asks what Will wants, he just  _ takes _ and sees how long it takes for Will to break. Will hasn’t broken yet, a sturdy toy for a man far too rough with his possessions. 

Hannibal’s eyes have narrowed to slits as he watches his brother be so rough with his only son, but he doesn’t protest, doesn’t step in to stop the abuse as Nigel slaps Will’s other cheek, always a man for symmetry. 

“Thank you, Sir,” Will purrs, fluttering his eyelashes like a dime store harlot and leaning back so that he spills out on Hannibal’s dark sheets, spreading his thighs as wide as he can with the pants still hanging low on his hips. He wants to see how long he can entice and entrance these men before  _ they  _ break and take him apart piece by piece. 

It doesn’t take nearly as long as he’d imagined, just the slightest peek at the lace of his panties where it spreads out against the jut of his slim hips has a growl in Nigel’s voice and the man prowls over him while Hannibal unbuttons his own shirt sleeves, rolling them up his muscled arms, arms far too toned and strong for the sedentary life of a psychiatrist. 

Nigel shrugs out of his own shirt, the buttons still all undone to expose his broad chest. He settles over Will, presses him into the bed with only the barest of his full strength, and Will shivers at the implication. He’s stuck. A prey animal caught in the den of two wolves.

Will offers his hand to Hannibal, who still stands imposing and larger than life just behind Nigel, a curious, animal tilt of his head as he takes in the scene before him. 

Hannibal’s eyes focus on Will’s proffered hand and he steps closer, a lazily casual hand on Nigel’s shoulder where he’s bent over Will, something sharp and dangerous flashing in Hannibal’s gaze. 

Nigel’s hands are already all over Will; one tangled in his curls, using his grip to force his head to tip back and expose the long line of his throat, the other petting over his hip and stomach, fingers dipping below the fabric until he brushes teasingly at Will’s pubic hair before pulling away again. His father’s eyes meet his, then, and Will forces his own to remain open as Nigel dips down to mouth at his neck.

Will’s heart is rabbiting in his chest, his hand still outstretched toward his father. “Touch me,” he tries to demand, but the words come out as Nigel sucks at his neck and finally grinds against his aching cock, and it sounds more like a breathless plea.

“ _ I’ll _ touch you,” Nigel growls into his skin, reaches for Will’s hand and takes it in his own. Then he pulls back, hunger and greed blazing in his dark eyes. “Why don’t you get on your knees for me, gorgeous?”

With the dismal acceptance that Hannibal isn’t yet ready to participate, Will allows Nigel to pull him up from the bed, goes to his knees on the floor without argument or struggle. He can feel the heavy weight of his father’s gaze upon him, and it brings a renewed flush to his cheeks, makes his fingers tremble as he reaches up to work at Nigel’s fly. He’s barely pulled his uncle’s thick cock from the confines of his pants before the man has a stinging grip in Will’s curls and is shoving into his mouth.

Will chokes around him immediately, which only pulls a satisfied snarl from Nigel’s throat and makes him fuck in all the harder. He lets his jaw go slack, opens his throat and ignores the saliva that’s already leaking from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. 

“You can’t be afraid to be a little rough with him,” Nigel advises, his words punched out with each violent thrust into Will’s throat. “It’s the only way to give this little slut what he needs.”

Will gasps for breath each time Nigel pulls away, and then his uncle plunges deep and stills. He stays that way until Will can feel panic clawing at his chest, his vision going dim around the edges. He paws weakly at Nigel’s strong thighs and whines as reflexive tears slip down his cheeks.

Nigel chuckles at him, but his father hisses something sharply in Lithuanian, and finally his uncle pulls away. Will’s hands drop to the ground as he sobs for air, tears falling in earnest now. He’s still trying to collect himself when a form crouches down before him. A gentle hand guides his face up, and Will’s breath stalls again when he sees his father’s face, looking as though he’d like nothing more than to eat him.

“My sweet boy,” Hannibal murmurs, wiping the tears from Will’s cheeks, the spit from his chin. “Is he ever gentle with you?”

Will shakes his head, heart stuttering at the dark rage that floods his father’s eyes. “You can be,” he suggests, his voice rough and wet from the abuse his throat just took, and his father’s gaze softens.

He reaches around to cradle the back of Will’s head, pulling him forward gently, and Will shivers as their mouths slot together, sighs as Hannibal’s tongue slips between his lips. He’s filthy, covered in tears and spittle, and only moments before had his uncle’s cock buried in his throat, but the way Hannibal kisses him is tender, worshipful. 

Will moans low in his throat as their tongues tangle together, slips his arms around his father’s neck and pushes himself closer. He whimpers when their groins brush together and he can feel the evidence of his father’s desire. He pants into Hannibal’s mouth as he realizes he already knows how big that cock is going to be. How well it’s going to fill him.

Will slips a hand between them to brush over Hannibal’s groin, and a shudder spills through him when he feels Nigel at his back. “Is he hard for you, gorgeous?” Nigel’s lips brush his ear as his hands grip Will’s hips. Will moans and nods into the kiss, increasing the friction of his hand where his father’s pants are tented. He drops his head back against Nigel’s shoulder as Hannibal’s lips move to Will’s throat. He groans again as Nigel presses against him, cock rubbing against his ass, still damp from Will’s mouth. “How could he not be? Look at you.”

“Let me suck it,” Will gasps as Hannibal nips at his throat. “ _ Fuck _ , please, daddy…”

Hannibal hauls Will to his feet, his hands slipping beneath the t-shirt stretched across his torso and stripping it up and off him in one smooth movement. Will pushes at his sweatpants until they slip to the floor and then crawls onto the massive bed. When he settles into the sheets he glances up at the two men staring him down, his breath coming short as his body begins to tremble with anxious anticipation.

“Will you undress him, Uncle Nigel?” He knows his coy glances and diminutive tone are utterly transparent, but they have the positive effect of getting him what he wants, and Will watches with rapt attention, chewing on his lip as Nigel turns to Hannibal and unhooks the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Hard to believe you’ve got such a little slut on your hands, isn’t it?” Nigel flashes Hannibal a cheeky grin as he pushes his shirt from his broad shoulders, and Hannibal turns a critical eye upon Will where he waits on the bed.

“I’m almost appalled it escaped my notice for so long,” he agrees as he steps out of his pants. “Fold those,” he instructs Nigel, almost as an afterthought as he joins Will on the bed.

Will doesn’t wait to see if his uncle complies, merely waits until Hannibal settles with his back against the headboard and then crawls over to him. He looks just like his brother, broad shoulders on a leonine frame, right down to the enticing pelt that covers his chest. His cock is hard, leaking against his belly, just as large and thick as Nigel’s. Will’s mouth waters at the sight.

“You wanted to suck it,” Hannibal reminds him, slipping a hand into his curls and tugging him closer, until Will loses his balance and falls forward. “Show me what you can do.”

Even though Hannibal moves him exactly how he wants him, he isn’t forceful. Hannibal is an immovable force, a glacier. Controlled and methodical, though nevertheless still deadly and undefiable. Nigel is a raging inferno, a forest fire threatening to consume everything in its path without mercy or discretion. 

Will wants to see him break. Wants to see them both crash over him like a tidal wave of heat and desire. 

He leans forward, gives a playfully coy, tentative lick to the head of his father’s cock before he drags his tongue down the shaft, following a thick bead of pre-come as it slides down his length. He can see Hannibal’s thighs tense in his periphery, and he smirks to himself as he bats his lashes up at the man, a perfect image of control and poise above him. 

Hannibal’s hand is still loose in Will’s hair, not directing him, but not  _ truly  _ allowing for him to move away, even if he wanted to. He absolutely doesn’t want to. 

He loses himself to the nearly meditative process of wetting his father’s entire cock with his lips and tongue, still not yet taking it inside of his mouth. Just as he’s about to finally wrap his lips around the head, just a tease of pressure, he feels his uncle press against his ass, his erection obvious where it slips between Will’s cheeks. 

“Your boy has an ass made for fucking, brother,” he slaps at Will’s left asscheek to emphasize his point. “Isn’t that right, gorgeous? You just love having your holes all filled up.” It isn’t a question, but Will nods in agreement anyway, eyes still on Hannibal as his broad palm comes around to cup Will’s cheek. 

“You like being full, darling boy?” Hannibal asks, smiles at Will’s eager nod. He looks at Nigel over Will’s back where he’s sprawled out on his hands and knees between his father’s legs, and a silent conversation happens between the two brothers. 

Nigel’s hands find Will’s hips, fingers digging in between sharp hip bones, but he does nothing else for several seconds. Will returns to his task, slurping messily and teasingly around the head of Hannibal’s cock, letting his eyelashes flutter nearly shut but never removing his eye contact. Hannibal’s eyes are the color of blood in the moonlight, dangerous and unrelenting and a shiver wracks through Will’s body at the reminder that he’s pinned between two men that could hurt him, could  _ kill him _ if they wanted to and he’d be helpless to stop it. 

The reminder is accompanied by another hand joining his father’s on his head, Nigel not as gentle as Hannibal when he pushes Will down so Hannibal’s cock hits the back of his throat in one smooth thrust. Will’s throat flutters around the intrusion, but he doesn’t gag, not yet. 

Just as he’s adjusting to the shift, throat stuffed full and bulging from the outline of his father’s thick cock, Nigel yanks the sheer material of Will’s panties to the side, spits warm and wet against his hole and slides his thumbs in, pulling Will’s rim apart for his gaze. He doesn’t stay that way long - Nigel is not a creature of patience - letting one of his thumbs slip away to be replaced by two fingers, twisting roughly inside Will as he finds his prostate with the ease of someone familiar with their lover’s body. 

Will whimpers around the cock in his mouth, watches as Hannibal’s eyes go impossibly darker at the sensation. He renews his movements, gliding his lips up and down Hannibal’s shaft, licking around the tip and gathering more of his salty pre-come on his tongue, swallows it down greedily even as Nigel adds a third finger, scissoring them to spread Will wide. 

Another brief glance between Hannibal and Nigel and suddenly Will has a thumb hooked into his cheek, pulling his mouth wider around Hannibal’s girth. He nearly sobs with how much he loves it, the slight ache of nearly  _ too much _ coupled with the pure pleasure of the act itself. He pushes himself further down Hannibal’s length, doesn’t stop until his nose is pressed firmly to Hannibal’s lower abdomen, the flesh slightly softer than Nigel’s from years of a sedentary lifestyle, though no less muscled and strong for it, his extracurriculars ensuring he still has a strong, well-toned body.

Will stays down until his lungs ache and burn and spit pools wet and tacky against the hair trailing down Hannibal’s groin. His lips are swollen and bruised, his face a mess of tears and spit, and he has never been happier. The fingers of Nigel’s free hand are back in Will’s curls, this time to yank him off Hannibal’s cock with a desperate gasp. “Daddy, please…” Will pleads, unsure of what exactly he’s asking for, but knowing the two men above him will know what to do. 

“He’s desperate for it, Hanni. I don’t think just one cock and some fingers is gonna be enough for the little whore. He just needs it too much,” Nigel observes, pulls his fingers free of Will’s clenching hole and Will  _ whines,  _ so suddenly empty that it hurts like a physical pain. “Why don’t you climb onto your daddy’s lap, hm? Give him a good show.” 

Will doesn’t need to be told twice, scrambles onto his knees, and settles into Hannibal’s lap like he belongs there. And he  _ does,  _ he always has. It’s just been the two of them for so long, it isn’t really a surprise that his father is all he thinks about, all he craves. How lucky for him, then, that his uncle happens to look exactly like him; two for the price of one. Will has never felt luckier than he does as he watches Hannibal’s eyes contract and dilate with pleasure; something low in his tummy sparks deliciously at the idea that  _ he  _ did that. He gave this man his mouth, he’ll give him his hole, his entire fucking body, and he can see already that Hannibal will consume him in his entirety. That nothing will ever be enough, he’ll always want  _ more.  _ And his boy will gladly give it to him. 

Hannibal reaches out to Will, trailing hands across his chest, down his slim waist. They snag on his lacy panties and clench and tear, ripping the material off of Will’s skin with such a controlled violence that he can’t help the gasp that falls from his lips. His cock bobs as it’s freed, hard and red and wet, and Will wastes no time in lowering himself and gyrating his hips so their erections can brush together.

“Tempting thing,” his father growls, hands wrapping around his hips with a bruising grip and hauling him up. “If this was what you wanted, you need only have asked.” He slips a hand between them to line his cock up with Will’s entrance and then guides him down. Will goes, more than willing, groaning as his father’s cock fills him. The going isn’t very smooth, still slightly stretched out from Nigel’s fingers and, earlier, his cock, but what little lubricant that had been present then isn’t doing much to alleviate the friction  _ now _ . “I’d have given this to you years ago, had I known.”

Will cries out as he settles flush against Hannibal’s lap, partially from the intense and  _ wonderful _ sensation of finally being full again, and partially from the absolute depravity his father just uttered. He lets those words slide over him as he rocks into Hannibal’s lap, knowing they are true. Arousal crashes over him, twisting tight and hot in his gut, threatening to make him spill over far too soon as he thinks back to when he was younger,  _ far _ younger, prepubescent and on the verge of a sexual awakening. If he’d gone to Hannibal then, shy and curious and  _ pure _ \- would he have taken him? Would he have shown Will the pleasures of the human body, helped him to understand his own?

A sharp, stinging pain flares to life in his face, and Will realizes a moment later that his father’s just  _ slapped _ him, pulling him out of the fantasy, stymying the whining chant of  _ I’m going to come, I’m going to come, _ that he’d not even realized had been pouring from his mouth. 

“You will  _ not, _ you greedy boy. I’m not finished with you just yet. Nor is your uncle.” 

Will whimpers and lets himself fall forward, clinging to Hannibal’s chest as their hips move together. There’s not much thrusting, but Hannibal moves deep inside him, and it feels like it’s deeper than anyone’s ever been, even though he knows Nigel has been buried within him in equal measure. “You feel so  _ good,” _ he breathes against his father’s lips, because he does - holy fuck, he feels  _ so _ good.

“You as well, sweet thing,” Hannibal murmurs into his mouth. “My darling boy,” his hands twine around Will’s torso and hold him tighter, pull him closer. “I daresay you’re enough to make a man lose all sense of self-control.”

“ _ Yes,” _ Will groans, arching closer still. “Yes, do it. Let go.  _ Fuck me.” _

He can feel the growl that rumbles in Hannibal’s chest,  _ taste  _ it on his lips. And then suddenly, Will is no longer sat astride his father’s lap, but flat on his back on the mattress, Hannibal hovering over him, hiking Will’s slender legs up over his shoulders and pounding into him with vigor.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , ohh -” Will cries, eyes squeezed closed and hands fisting in his own curls as he’s fucked into the mattress. It’s still more controlled than Nigel ever allows himself to be, but there’s so much force behind his thrusts that it jostles Will down the bed every time they slam together, and finally Hannibal grips Will’s hips and hauls them up off the bed, and he’s practically suspended in the air as he’s being split open over and over…

He tilts his head back, gasps for breath as it’s continuously punched out of him, and finally has to open his eyes because somehow the darkness behind his lids is making him  _ dizzy _ in his euphoric state, and he’ll never forgive himself if he passes out right now - though he has no doubt his monsters would continue to use him, even if he did. In his upside-down, rocking vision, he can see his uncle sitting at the foot of the bed, watching them with rapt attention and stroking his cock with a slow, languid grip.

“What a vision,” his rough voice paints over Will’s cries, and Will instinctively shakes his head from side to side, because if he has to listen to his uncle talk dirty right now he knows he’ll  _ never _ be able to withhold the orgasm he’s currently barrelling towards at breakneck speed. “So needy for your daddy’s cock, aren’t you? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been such a slut for his twin, haven’t you?”

Will whimpers when Hannibal’s hand releases him and then comes down  _ hard _ against his ass. “Your uncle asked you a question,” he prompts, and  _ Jesus _ , he doesn’t sound wrecked in the  _ least _ from this exertion; not like Will. “Are you a slut, Will? Desperate little whore needing your holes fucked and filled up?”

“Yes!” Will gasps when Hannibal smacks him once more for good measure. “Yes, I’m a slut. I’m a slut, please,  _ please _ -”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees, and then buries himself deep one more time and leans down to capture Will’s panting mouth in a bruising kiss as he floods Will’s ass with his release.

“Fuck, you’re filthy, baby. Your needy little hole is still begging for more and your daddy hasn’t even pulled out yet,” Nigel chuckles from closer now, and Will feels the other man’s pointer finger tracing around the outside of where he and his father are joined together, applying slight pressure to his sore, abused rim until it caves and allows him entrance, a finger that feels far too big stretching in alongside Hannibal’s slowly softening cock, hooking deep and pulling at Will’s walls until he’s sure he gapes a little. 

“Next time we should fill him up together. If he’s so desperate for it I’m sure he could handle the stretch. Couldn’t you, little whore?” Nigel’s grin is nearly feral and Will is left reeling at the idea of a  _ next time.  _

“Uncle Nigel!” Will cries out, his entire body shudders with need, cheeks flushed bright red with blood and hands trembling where he grasps at his father. 

“Enough, Nigel,” Hannibal reprimands sternly, and suddenly Will can hear his father saying those words to his uncle a thousand times in a thousand different ways; he’s probably been reining in his twin brother all his life. “If you wish to fill him, do it with your cock. The poor boy can’t come without it, after all.”

Will groans as they both pull out of him then, and gives a pathetic sounding whimper when Nigel commands him to his feet. “I don’t think I can stand,” he rasps, and a shiver of dread - quickly followed by another intense wave of arousal - spills through him at Nigel’s derisive chuckle.

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a fucking choice in the matter, darling.”

Nigel’s at the side of the bed, then, grabbing onto his ankles and yanking him to the edge. He scoops his arms beneath Will’s shoulders and hauls him to standing on quivering legs, and Will’s knees buckle as soon as he’s upright.

Hannibal is right behind him with steadying hands, still kneeling on the bed and turning Will around to face him. “Brace yourself on the bed, sweet boy,” he instructs, voice low and rough and soothing. Will obeys immediately, bending forward to grasp at the sheets and locking his knees in the process. “We have you,” his father assures him, and Will’s heart begins pounding anew as he realizes that’s true.

_ They have him. _ These two beautiful, deadly,  _ impossible _ monsters have him; he’s theirs - and that means he has nothing to worry about anymore.

He’s staring into his father’s eyes when Nigel pushes into him, sliding home without preamble, and Hannibal leans forward to drink down the gasp that spills from his lips. The kiss is broken soon enough, as Nigel begins to slam into him without reservation. He plants a hand between Will’s shoulder blades and pushes him down until Will’s face and chest are pressed firmly to the bed, and all he can do is slump down and take it.

_ This  _ is not a novel experience, Nigel and his rough treatment quite familiar to Will, but the fact that his  _ father _ is watching this happening is so unbearably arousing that Will can’t help but grind his hips into the mattress where his aching cock has been pinned down. Nigel fills him just as well as ever, his fat cock putting insistent pressure against Will’s prostate and making him whine and squirm with every thrust in.

“Uncle Nigel, please…” Will gasps desperately into the sheets, nearly choking on his inability to pull a proper breath into his heaving lungs. 

“Please, what little slut? You need it harder, baby? You want me to make you sore for days? Make you bleed again for me?” Nigel leans forward and presses his sharp incisors to Will’s sweaty nape, keeps his lower body pinned with his weight even as he wraps fingers into Will’s curls and hauls his head up, allowing Hannibal to kiss him again, stealing the little air he’d managed to gather directly from the source. 

“Daddy, will you…” he cries, unsure of exactly what he’s asking for. He shakes his head as best he can with Nigel’s fingers so firm in his curls, tries to clear his thoughts. Hannibal raises an eyebrow at him, as though he can read Will’s desires on his red, tear-streaked face. He probably can. “Will you kiss Uncle Nigel, daddy? Please?” 

Hannibal’s lips curl up in a teasing, cruel grin, and he makes eye contact with Nigel over Will’s shoulders. Before Will can prepare for it, Hannibal leans impossibly closer and he can  _ hear  _ the wet, sloppy sounds of their lips as they kiss above him, the act just as violent as everything else these two men ever do. 

Suddenly, he’s on his back again, his father’s soft cock and smooth balls laying on his face. He can’t help but dart his tongue out to taste him, a purely masculine, musky flavor mixed with the spice of Hannibal’s body wash. 

Nigel enters him again with a forceful slam of his hips, Will’s legs spread so wide around his uncle’s body that they ache and he hears a soft  _ pop.  _ Their kissing resumes along with Nigel’s thrusts, and Will thinks he might  _ die _ . Just like this, happy and crowded entirely by the only two men who matter. 

Will keeps his eyes rapt on their faces, Nigel’s eyes closed in contentment and desire as he takes his pleasure from between Will’s legs and also directly from Hannibal’s lips. Will sees blood against their mouths, unable to tell who it belongs to, maybe it’s a mixture of them both, their darkness unrestrained. If anything, it makes Will even more desperate, his entire body pulls taut like a notched arrow and he  _ comes,  _ smearing his release against his belly. 

Nigel recovers first, blinks down at Will with a predator’s gaze and scoops up his come, forcing his fingers between Hannibal’s thighs where they still frame Will’s face to seek out Will’s pouty, swollen lips, forcing them apart and coating Will's tongue in his own release. 

A groan from above him and then Nigel stills his thrusts deep inside, and Will can feel his cock where it twitches violently inside his body, flooding him with his seed. 

They lay in blissed out peace for several minutes, chests heaving and bodies glistening with sweat. When Nigel finally slides out of Will, he whimpers high and long, body clenching in an attempt to keep his uncle deep where he wants him. 

“Quiet, sweet boy. We will give you exactly what you need.” Hannibal shushes him, moving his body down the bed to take Nigel’s place between Will’s spread open thighs. 

Nigel comes up beside him, leaving bruising suckmarks all along his shoulders, his chest, his neck. He won’t be able to go to school next week without the marks being noticed, so high up on his throat that nothing could hide them. He thrills at the thought of finally being able to wear Nigel’s marks openly, of not having to worry about his father discovering them. Perhaps Hannibal will mark him as well, and Will’s body can be the canvas upon which his monsters paint their affection in tandem.

While Will is distracted, Hannibal flattens onto his belly and spreads Will impossibly further apart, leaning low to lick against his entrance. 

Will’s legs try to come together around his father’s head, but Nigel growls into Will’s mouth as he bites down harshly on his lips and his palm finds Will’s hip and keeps him pinned flat. 

“Daddy?” Will whines, suddenly unsure. He and Nigel have only tried this a few times, and never after he’d been filled up with come. It feels depraved, filthier than anything he’s ever done, and he fucks his uncle regularly - and now his father as well. 

“Bet you taste so good, gorgeous. Filled up with the seed of two men, dripping your uncle and your daddy out of that sweet hole. You don’t want to waste it do you, darling?” Nigel soothes, licking up the blood that he’s spread across Will’s lax lips. 

Will lets his legs fall back apart, making more room for his father. Hannibal returns with vigor, his tongue digging deeper than Will imagines it should be able to go,  _ cleaning him.  _

After several minutes of nothing but lewd smacking sounds and Will’s gasped little cries, Hannibal comes up for air, pulls Nigel to his face and kisses him filthy and wet. Will can see a significant amount of white pass between their mouths, and his stomach clenches hotly in renewed arousal. 

Without warning, Nigel returns to him, forces his lips to part and spits the entire collection into Will’s open mouth, leans in and smears it across his teeth and tongue as he kisses him hard. Will gags a bit at the intensity of the salty, bitter fluid forced into his mouth, and Nigel shushes him with a dark chuckle.

Will feels Hannibal return to his task, this time with a firm hand wrapped around Will’s erection, his body thrumming with the clawing need to come again, even so soon. Nigel wraps his chapped lips around Will’s leaking cock head seconds before Will is coming into his mouth, chest heaving and thighs quivering around his father’s head. 

This time, Hannibal snakes his way back up Will’s body and kisses him with more of their combined release, pushing it past Will’s lips and practically purring against his mouth. Nigel isn’t far behind, kissing Hannibal with Will’s seed still dripping from his tongue and then they are both attacking Will’s mouth, like animals as they take turns spitting tacky white semen into his mouth and biting his lips enough to crack them open again, his mouth full of salt and copper. 

They only relent when there’s nothing left to share between the three of them, and Will collapses flat onto the bed, no longer able to move, splayed out on the mattress like a sacrifice upon the altar of his gods, simply being placed wherever the two men above him desire him. There are hands on Will’s body, still trembling with the aftershocks of his second orgasm, and they pull him properly up the bed, arrange him into the middle of it and make sure there’s a pillow beneath his head and a blanket draped over his shivering form.

He curls instinctively against the body that appears next to him, burying his face into the solid strength of his chest. He knows without even checking that it’s his father, and slots his body closer against him.

“Darling,” he rumbles, and Will can only manage a weak hum as he breathes in the musk of the other man where he’s pressed so close against him. Soft fingertips trail across his cheek, dip beneath his chin to encourage him to raise his head. “Will.”

His eyes open at that, his buzzing mind frantically trying to recall if he’s even heard his name  _ once _ tonight. He peers up at Hannibal’s face, a soft fondness and amusement battling in his glinting eyes.

“Good?”

Will’s heart flutters at the simple word, his father’s way of checking in with him, ensuring that he’s feeling okay with everything that just occurred. Will gives him a lazy grin and nods, fights the urge to remind Hannibal that  _ Will _ was the one who’d drawn  _ him _ into the debauchery of what he and his uncle share. 

He presses forward to slot their mouths together, a shiver running through him as he tastes the release of all three of them on Hannibal’s tongue. When they part, he buries his face against his father’s furred chest once more, humming contentedly when the heat of his uncle appears along the line of his back. He reaches behind him blindly for Nigel’s arm and drags it forward to hook over his waist, pulling the man closer still and sighing contentedly when he crowds firmly against Will’s back. 

And there, sandwiched between his father and uncle - two deadly monsters and two men that love him - Will sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
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> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai


	2. Strawberries & Cigarettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Is it just me, or is there something inherently compelling about dangerous men?”_
> 
> _Nigel huffs out another amused snort and reaches down to where Will had placed the bottle on the floor. He pours himself another generous three fingers of the amber liquid and takes an immediate sip. “What the fuck would a little boy like you know about dangerous men? Don’t you still need someone holding your hand when you cross the street?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a time stamp from the past, the night when Will and Nigel first got together! This verse won’t be in any particular order, but most fics after this one will be after Gods!

Nigel never expected he’d end up in Baltimore fucking Maryland, but he supposes that’s what happens when you marry cunts who try to run off with manic, American hipster pussies. 

When things went down back home he called Hannibal immediately, knowing he would take him in. It had been nearly twenty years since they’d seen each other last, Hannibal moving from Paris to the states to continue his education while Nigel slipped quietly away from their Uncle Robert’s influence and straight into the pockets of the Romanian Mafia. 

He worked his way up the ranks quickly, made some powerful connections; connections that had ensured his exit from Bucharest was an easy one and had graciously cleaned up the mess he’d left of _Charlie_ and his beloved Gabriella.

He’d only been in Baltimore for a few days, now the owner of a nephew he’d known about but never met until the day he’d arrived, and he has already been tasked with fucking _babysitting._

Gabi was hinting at a baby for the last several years, but Nigel had never wanted kids, far too possessive, even, to share his lover with a baby, and he is both relieved and overwhelmed that Will is nearly fully grown at sixteen, though still a terror enough in his own right. 

Nigel takes a swig of beer - his six or seventh of the night, but who’s counting? His plans include getting trashed and passing out - alone - _again._ He grips his fingers too tightly around the bottle and nearly hears the glass groan in protest. 

“You’re doing it again.”

“Hm?” Nigel glances up from the beer bottle clutched in his hands, amber glass nearly black under the low lighting, his gaze darting across the kitchen island to where his nephew has apparently abandoned his search of the fridge and is staring at him with a critical eye, strawberry juice smeared sticky across his bottom lip and a half-eaten strawberry resting loosely in his fingertips.

_“Moping."_

Nigel scoffs and drains the final swig of his beer, ignoring the swell of Will’s mouth. “You don’t get to where I am in life without having a thing or two to fucking mope about, kid.”

Will leans forward, draping himself across the counter between them as he reaches out to collect Nigel’s empty bottle, disposing of the white, unripe end of his strawberry in the trash and the bottle into the recycling bin. “Yeah, but you told me, and I quote: _You stop me if you see me doing that shit again,"_ the kid has the gall to affect an exaggerated impersonation of Nigel’s accent. “You’re moping, so I’m stopping you.”

“By being an annoying little shit?”

“By offering a suitable distraction. For starters, I think you’re in need of something a little stronger. Real booze is in the study. I’m gonna go put on some pajamas and then we’re gonna have a drink.” Sometimes this kid opens his mouth and Nigel’s fucking brother’s voice comes out of it. 

He’s not even afforded a chance to accept or reject this proposed plan of action before Will is flouncing out of the kitchen, but he holds in whatever protest might surface, not in the least because he really _could_ use something stronger and he’s pretty sure the kid knows where his insufferable fuck of a twin hid the key to the liquor cabinet before he left for his _conference_. 

Nigel abandons his seat at the counter to make his way to the study, relieved, at least, that his nephew is currently making an effort to put on some clothes that aren’t the obscenely tight shorts he’s been bouncing around the house in for the last few days. Nigel’s only been in America for a week and already he’s devolved to having horrifically inappropriate thoughts about the boy. It’s comforting, in a small way, to know he can still feel attraction to someone that isn’t the heartless bitch he left in Romania. There _is_ , however, the slight issue of the person in question being none other than his brother’s teenage son.

 _Get a fucking grip,_ he seethes internally as he settles onto the couch and lights a cigarette. _He’s sixteen, you miserable old bastard. He’s family; Hannibal’s fucking son. Your nephew._

In truth, Will’s age doesn’t bother Nigel in the least, and the fact they’re family is hardly even a compelling argument, considering he’s spent the last sixteen years minus one week not knowing the kid. Plus, he doesn’t _look_ like family. Whoever Hannibal had gone and knocked up had some fucking strong genes; Will must entirely take after her side of the equation. He doesn’t have the sharp edges, sandy hair or sanguine eyes typical of Lecter men. He’s all soft curves, dark, curly hair, and stormy blues. 

In that respect, can Nigel even be blamed for coveting such a pretty young thing?

He’s pulled from his reverie - gladly so, considering his attempt at mental fortitude has shifted with embarrassing speed to contemplating the boy’s full, pink lips - by Will’s prompt return, and nearly swallows his tongue when he looks up from where he’s seated on the couch to find the kid in nothing but an oversized band t-shirt.

“That’s mine,” he finds himself pointing out, though clearly Will must already know this. The material swallows his lean frame, sliding down one shoulder and falling so far down his thighs that whatever underwear he’s wearing underneath is completely obscured.

Even as Nigel’s brain is actively hijacked by past associations, he can’t help but make the comparison that while the oversized garment had looked simply ridiculous on Gabi’s frail frame, draped over Will’s - admittedly similar in stature - it looks as though the cloth had been cut just for him.

“My dad might actually kill you if the house smells like cigarettes when he gets back,” Will warns, and Nigel can’t help but think that Will is probably even more right than he knows. He saunters over and plucks the smoke from Nigel’s lips. “You don’t mind, do you?” Will adds with an innocent glance over his shoulder as he strides over to the fireplace, taking a quick drag off it himself before ditching it onto the unlit logs. “I found it in the laundry room and thought it looked cool. And it’s comfy,” he tugs on the hem to pull the cotton away from his body and glances down at the graphic on the front of the shirt. “What’s it say?”

_“I liked how it looked!” Gabi insists with a scowl. “What’s wrong with it, anyway?”_

_“Apart from the fact that it doesn’t fucking fit you, love, do you even know who that band is?”_

She hadn’t, and Nigel had been more than happy to rub that oversight in her face every time she climbed into his Porsche by blasting the black metal music at full fucking volume until Gabi had finally relented and abandoned the ill-fitting t-shirt to the back of Nigel’s closet.

Nigel pulls himself from his memories, forces his eyes to redirect his gaze from the boy’s slim, creamy thighs to the lettering and the black stag on the shirt. He swallows around the dryness in his mouth and clears his throat. “It’s a Romanian metal band.” 

His eyes track Will’s hand as he reaches up to the mantle above the fireplace and then immediately drop down to where the hem of the shirt rides up and _fucking Hell,_ is that _lace_ he just caught a glimpse of?

His heart nearly stops when he catches sight of Will’s smirk, and then realizes it’s probably more due to the fact he’s triumphantly holding up the key to the liquor cabinet, rather than the fact that he just caught Nigel leering at him like some filthy fucking peeping Tom.

“You sure your old man is okay with you drinking?” Nigel asks as Will lets himself into the cabinet and promptly pours two tumblers of brandy. He doesn’t give a shit, really; Will isn’t _his_ kid after all - not that he’d really give a shit even if he was. But it feels like the sort of question a responsible adult - something Nigel has never in his life been accused of being - might ask, and so he lets the words tumble out all the same.

Will saunters over to the couch with their glasses, another devious smirk plastered on his face. He passes one to Nigel and then folds himself onto the couch next to him with his bare legs tucked up underneath himself. “If he was worried about _that_ he should have found a more responsible babysitter to leave me with. _Cheers."_

“ _Noroc,”_ Nigel murmurs back, tipping his glass in Will’s direction and then taking a hearty swig of its contents. It goes down smooth, like Nigel expects anything from his brother’s collection to do, and he finds himself tipping the entirety of the contents down, already wanting _more._

He snatches Will’s - as of yet - untouched glass from his hands, the boy watching Nigel with an unfathomable look in his eyes, and downs _that_ in one go as well. 

Will doesn’t protest; he simply gets up and retrieves the entire bottle, brings it back to the couch with a sway in his hips that Nigel must only be imagining, and then slips right back into his position beside Nigel, this time with his knees just barely brushing the outside of Nigel’s right thigh. 

The boy pours them two more glasses, offering one to Nigel with a coy smirk on his lips. Suddenly, Nigel’s entirely sure that Hannibal doesn’t usually allow Will to drink. That can be the only explanation for the mischievous glint he sees in those sea-tossed eyes. 

“For identical twins, you and dad don’t really look totally alike,” Will says, apropos of nothing, scooting even closer on the couch. 

Nigel raises a scarred eyebrow at him, a smirk of his own on his lips as he tries to recover some face. “Your dad’s had a softer life than me, kid. At least the more recent parts of it, anyway.” 

Will hums in reply, leaning back against the couch to pop his back, temporarily exposing more of the unblemished, youthful skin of his upper thighs. Nigel slings back another tumbler full of liquid to stop the growl threatening to erupt at the sight, his imagination painting a vivid picture of his nephew with those same soft thighs wrapped around Nigel’s hips, or after, around his head. 

“I like it. Makes you look rugged. _Handsome.”_ Will emphasizes the remarks with a seeking hand that traces the outline of the woman on Nigel’s neck. 

Nigel grits his teeth against the shiver that nearly spills through him at the light touch and gives a soft huff, because he’s really not sure how the fuck he’s supposed to reply to a comment like that from his own nephew. He can smell the lingering scent of strawberries on Will’s fingertips where they glide across his skin.

“Dangerous,” Will adds after a moment of silence. “Is it just me, or is there something inherently _compelling_ about dangerous men?” 

Nigel huffs out another amused snort and reaches down to where Will had placed the bottle on the floor. He pours himself another generous three fingers of the amber liquid and takes an immediate sip. “What the fuck would a little boy like you know about dangerous men? Don’t you still need someone holding your hand when you cross the street?”

“I know enough,” Will responds simply, and his lips twist into a teasing smile just before he wraps them around the rim of his glass and takes a small sip. “Enough to know they usually aren’t the big mystery they like to _think_ they are.”

Nigel twists his body toward the boy next to him, his leg shifting against him and causing that damned t-shirt to ride a bit higher up his thighs. He very purposefully does _not_ look down at this, but levels his nephew with a stare both hard and - he hopes - sage. “Listen here, kid. I’m going to impart some fucking truth on you right now. All the shit you _think_ you know - you don’t. You don’t know this world or the men in it. You’re still just a _kid._ ”

“I’m clever for my age,” Will volleys back, completely unfazed by Nigel’s speech.

“Yeah, you’d be the cleverest boy in the fucking ground if you got dropped into the life _I_ had when I was your age.”

“Maybe,” Will agrees, as though the concept doesn’t unsettle him in the least. He drains the rest of his tumbler but opts to abandon the empty glass on the floor rather than refill it. “Maybe I’d just have to find one of those dangerous men to protect me.”

“Oh? And how do you suppose you’d compensate this dangerous man? Nothing in this world is free, darling. And before you say cash, for the purpose of this hypothetical we’re going to say daddy’s money doesn’t count.”

“I suppose I’d just have to find out what else he might want. Any suggestions?”

Nigel knocks the last of his glass back and contemplates the question as he stares at the crystal-cut tumbler. “Blood and blow are always good options. But if you had the stones to handle violence then you wouldn’t need protecting, would you? And drugs are hard to come by when you’re broke.”

The boy gives a soft hum and tilts his head to the side as he thinks. The action only showcases the long line of his pale neck and Nigel itches to lean forward and latch his mouth to the unblemished skin. 

“No blood, no blow,” Will summarizes languidly. “I guess that just leaves my body then, doesn’t it?” 

Nigel can’t stop the disbelieving sound that escapes him, surprisingly scandalized by the suggestion. His mind is flooded immediately with all the different ways a poor, desperate boy might offer himself to someone like Nigel and his cock twitches with interest. 

“Bold,” he laughs, because if he doesn’t he thinks the desire crashing through him might actually make him _whine._ “So cavalier about selling yourself, letting some fucking thug use you. Do you have any idea what a man like that would do to a soft little boy like you? Have you ever even _seen_ a cock that wasn’t attached to your own body?”

“No, I haven’t,” Will answers easily, though his confident tone is spoiled by the pink flush soaking his cheeks. He reaches out and plucks the empty glass from Nigel’s hand, depositing it on the floor next to his own. He recovers quickly enough, barreling on as Nigel tries to catch up.

“As for what he would do...why don’t you tell me? Better yet,” Will’s smirk widens, turns vicious as he shifts his body and then swings one knee over Nigel’s thighs and settles into his lap as though he _belongs_ there. “Better yet, why don’t you _show_ me?”

Will Graham has clearly, whether he’s aware of it or not, been in the presence of a predator in the form of his father for too long. His body is easy and lax as he makes himself comfortable in Nigel’s lap, careless and lacking any sort of prey instinct. 

“Excuse me, gorgeous. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Nigel questions, but even as the words leave his lips he finds himself with a proprietary hand on the boy’s exposed thigh, already making its way up to the soft curve of his hip, fingers fitting naturally into the dip there as he pulls him more firmly against his body.

“I’m learning my lesson, _Uncle Nigel.”_ Those words shouldn’t be as appealing as they are coming from plush, pouting lips, but Nigel feels his cock twitch between his legs, knows Will probably feels it too. 

If the boy wants to learn a lesson, Nigel has _several_ he can teach him. 

“I’m not a good man, sweetheart. I’m not gonna lay you out on silk sheets and strip you slowly. I won’t be _gentle_ with you. We aren’t gonna _make love.”_ Nigel warns with a low growl, one of his hands snaking its way up Will’s side, over the soft, worn fabric of his own shirt, before his fingers finally hit curls and he wraps his hand mercilessly in Will’s hair, pulls his head sharply to the side. 

He smiles wickedly at the little aborted gasp that pulls from Will, the monster that lives in his chest stirring to life for the first time in weeks, since he’d put his wife - _ex_ -wife - and her cunt of a lover in the fucking ground. _Blood, body, and blow._

“Haven’t you been listening at all? I don’t _want_ you to be gentle with me. Want my first time to be with a real man, someone who will just _take what they want,”_ Will is practically purring, the gleam in his eyes predatory. 

Nigel squeezes his fingers harder into the yielding, warm flesh of Will’s slender hip until he sees Will’s teeth clench from the pain of it. He feels wild, out of control in a way that isn’t safe for either of them, but since _when_ has Nigel ever cared about things being _safe?_

“Darling, you’re enough to tempt a man _far_ better than me into doing _terrible_ things. All this skin on display,” Nigel moves Will closer to him, close enough that he can feel the warmth from Will’s panting breaths. “You’ve been walking around like a little fucking _slut_ since your daddy went away _._ Was that all for me, baby?”

Will nods his head as much as he can with his hair held tight by Nigel’s firm grip, licks his lips in a way that is so obviously provocative it makes Nigel’s gut clench. 

Nigel might be a thug, by no means a good man, but he won’t take advantage of his own fucking nephew. "We can say this was all just the booze. Pretend it never even happened.” He pauses, forces himself to remove his hands from Will’s body, allowing the boy space and freedom of choice. “But if you don't get out of my lap in the next thirty seconds I'm liable to start taking all _sorts_ of liberties, gorgeous. And I _won't hold back."_

Will’s smile is full of teeth, dangerous and shockingly arousing. “You promise?” 

He arches against Nigel until their chests brush, simultaneously rocking his hips to press their groins more firmly together. Nigel growls and seizes the boy’s hips once more, holding him in place and grinding up against him. Will’s hands flutter up to grip Nigel’s shoulders and he lets out a little gasping sigh that goes straight to Nigel’s cock. He’s rock hard now, got there the minute the bold little cocktease climbed into his lap, and the weight of the boy on top of him is starting to make him lose all control.

Part of him knows he should feel distressed about that, but isn’t that dangerous lack of control exactly what his darling nephew wants?

“How’d a little virgin like you turn into such a slut, hm?” Nigel questions as they writhe together languidly.

“Everyone’s gotta start somewhere,” Will points out, and then dips his head down until their lips nearly brush together, his voice dropping lower. “And it’s been more than thirty seconds. You aren’t _all_ talk, are you? That would be terribly disappointing.”

Nigel growls at the provocation, slides his hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt draped over Will’s hips and skirts them upward, groaning as his calloused fingers meet the delicate lace of the boy’s underwear where it stretches low around his hips. “ _Fuck_. I thought so. You put these on just for me, gorgeous?”

“Yes and no,” Will murmurs coyly. “Maybe I just like the way they make me feel. Sexy. Confident.”

“ _Too_ confident,” Nigel amends. “Far too fucking confident if they’re making you rub against your own uncle like a fucking cat in heat.”

Will’s soft laugh spills over Nigel’s mouth and he has half a mind to drink it down, but Will pulls away to regard him critically before he can. “Maybe we should get _you_ into a pair. Maybe then you’d have the balls to actually _touch_ me _.”_

“Maybe I need to find a way to occupy that smart mouth of yours,” Nigel hisses. He brings a hand up to the boy’s soft mouth, sliding two digits into the wet heat of it before Will can even utter his next smartass reply. “You want me to touch you? Hm?” His other hand slides inward and cups where Will has grown hard in his panties, giving the boy a vicious squeeze and grinning savagely when he moans around Nigel’s fingers in response. “Be careful what you wish for, darling.”

He still hasn’t tasted Will’s pink little mouth, needs to know if it still tastes sticky-sweet like strawberries, but as it’s otherwise engaged, he settles for dipping his head down to lick and nip at the boy’s throat. Will keens again at the sensation, hips bucking forward into Nigel’s touch and tongue curling coyly around the digits in his mouth. The urge to sink his teeth a bit deeper, _really_ make the boy feel it, is almost overwhelming, but there’s simply no way Nigel can risk marking up Will’s neck. 

“That’s it, baby,” he purrs into Will’s ear as he rubs slow, firm circles over the boy’s groin. “Get ‘em nice and wet. You’ll want ‘em wet, where they’re going.” He gives a firm tug to the lace, pulling it to the side until Will’s throbbing cock is released from its confines. Nigel immediately takes it in hand and gives it a nice, slow stroke. 

“Speaking of wet,” he huffs out a laugh as Will shudders against him. “You’re _dripping_ for me, gorgeous. You’re so desperately turned on right now, aren’t you? And we haven’t even started yet.”

Another strangled whine slips from Will’s throat at that, and Nigel pulls his fingers away, eyes glued to the boy’s red, spit-shined lips as they part and release him.

“You ever gonna _actually get started,”_ Will teases boldly, and Nigel has had more than enough of the boy’s sassy ass mouth today. 

He slaps him, hard, across the face. Hard enough that Will’s head snaps to the side and he huffs out a laugh to try and cover up his gasp of surprise. 

Nigel grabs his face between firm, pinching fingers, lets his fingers sink into Will’s cheeks, pushing little hollows into his skin. “You’ll fucking watch your mouth if you’d like to keep all your teeth in it, darling.” 

A full-body shiver jostles Will on Nigel’s lap, and he grins wickedly as he pulls the boy closer, finally, _finally,_ crashing their lips together in a kiss that’s more teeth than lips or tongue, turning filthy immediately. 

When he finally pulls away, Will’s lips are already swollen and bruised like overripe cherries, and he can’t help but lean back in for more. He sucks the moans and gasping pleas directly from their source, leaves Will’s lips flushed and shining with spit before he moves back to his throat, sharp nips and teasing flicks of his tongue, careful not to leave marks. 

“Uncle Nigel, _please,”_ Will pleads, and it’s the sweetest sound Nigel’s ever heard, his boy breaking so easily for him already, so desperate to be used. 

“I could make a pretty fucking penny off a whore like you back in Romania. All sorts of bad men would blow their entire savings on a soft little virgin boy to shoot their loads into,” Nigel’s hands are back on Will’s thighs, digging harshly into his untouched skin as he drags the shirt further up to expose more and more of him. “Probably do all manner of filthy, awful things to you. But we both know you’d fucking love it, wouldn’t you? A natural slut like you.” 

Will _keens_ , nods his head fervently and pushes himself desperately closer to Nigel, their cocks brushing together through layers of fabric. 

Nigel wants to feel him even closer, wants to feel the warmth of his skin sinking into his own. “You don’t even know _what_ you’re begging me for,” Nigel growls against Will’s mouth, tongue dipping between his lips, there and gone before Will can hope to respond. He snakes his arm around the boy’s back, strokes his wet fingertips against his dry, furled hole. “You ever had a finger up here, darling?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Will moans, drops his forehead to Nigel’s shoulder as his hips give aborted thrusts forward and back, unable to decide whether to encourage the hand on his cock or the one at his entrance. “ _Fuck,_ please just do it, do it, please -”

Nigel, being the magnanimous and wholly considerate person that he is, _does._ He presses insistently against Will’s twitching rim until his finger slides in easily to the first knuckle; pulls nearly all the way out, and then slips in the second finger as well. As soon as his digits are buried as far as they can go, Nigel attempts scissoring them open.

“ _Fuck,_ darling,” he dips his head to murmur against Will’s ear again, continues to fuck into his hole with his fingers and swirls his thumb around the wet tip of the boy’s cock. “So goddamn _tight_ ,” he hisses over Will’s wail as he spreads his fingers wide once more. “How are you gonna fit all of me inside you? You ever stretched yourself out before, sweetheart? Gotten yourself nice and loose with a toy?”

“ _Mmm_ ,” Will confirms with a whine into Nigel’s throat as he frantically nods his head. “I have a dildo.”

Nigel rewards this information with a crook of his fingers, stroking firmly once over Will’s prostate. He seizes around Nigel and moans, nails digging so tightly into Nigel’s biceps that he’s certain the boy breaks skin. “Yeah? How big is this dildo of yours, hm?”

“Small,” Will gasps, swiveling his hips insistently in an attempt to get Nigel’s fingers back on that spot. “Just three inches.”

He lets out a rumbling laugh at the admission, hushes Will’s small sound of despair when Nigel releases the grip he’s got on his cock to begin working at the fly of his own jeans. “Oh, _darlin’._ That might be the cutest thing I ever heard. You think that’s _anything_ to get you ready for me?” He pulls his cock, angry red and leaking, from the confines of his pants and then captures one of Will’s hands from where they clutch at his arms. “Look at it,” he commands, voice gone low and gravelly with his arousal.

Will pulls his face away from Nigel’s neck and glances down between them, gives a low moan at the sight of Nigel’s thick cock on display. He guides Will’s hand to him, wraps his pretty, slender fingers around Nigel’s stiff length, and then urges them to explore.

“I’m gonna stuff you full of this cock, gorgeous. And you’re gonna take every fat inch for me, aren’t you?”

Will nearly chokes on his whine, his head a blur as he nods desperately in agreement. Suddenly, his eyes snap open and he looks, for the first time tonight, a little intimidated. “Is it gonna fit, Uncle Nigel? Are you going to hurt me?” Nigel doesn’t miss the flood of black that fills Will’s already dark eyes. Clearly he _likes_ the idea of his uncle hurting him. Nigel also doesn’t buy the affected tremble in his voice, his eyes - and his cock - giving everything away.

Nigel bites down on his own bottom lip so hard he can taste copper in his mouth. He wants to _destroy_ this boy, wants to consume him in his entirety so no one else can ever have him. No one else had better even _try._ Nigel knows, with clarity, that he would kill anyone who even looked at the boy wrong.

Will’s fingers grip around Nigel’s shaft, flexing tight and then loosening up in equal measures. Nigel keeps his palm wrapped around Will’s, moving him up and down in smooth strokes. “I’ll make it fit, darling, don’t you worry about that.” His grin turns feral, sharp teeth on display as he pulls Will tighter to him using the fingers still buried inside his clenching hole. “And I’ll hurt you all you want, baby. All you gotta do is beg me nicely.” 

The euphoria and excitement on Will’s face is obvious, but Nigel tries to maintain a more stoic demeanor. If Will wants a bad man, Nigel will play the part, will let his monster out to play a bit. 

“Fuck me,” Will demands, and Nigel circles another finger around the outside of the boy’s tight rim, rubbing against his entrance but not yet pushing in. . 

“Nuh uh, sweet thing. That sounds an awful lot like a _command._ I said to _beg_ me. You’re a fucking whore, Will. I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

Will pushes out his bottom lip and squirms on Nigel’s fingers, his own hand clenching around Nigel’s cock. “Will you please fuck me, Uncle Nigel?”

Nigel hums and draws the boy closer to mouth lazily at his neck. “That was _real_ sweet, gorgeous. But still not what I asked for.” He works his way up the boy’s throat, gives playful nips along his jawline, until their lips are brushing together once more. “Just think,” he murmurs against Will’s sweet mouth, curls his fingers against Will’s prostate again and grins against full lips as Will shudders and moans, “This fat cock would hit that spot. _Every. Time.”_

“Oh, _God,_ ” Will groans, renewing his desperate wiggling on Nigel’s fingers, “Christ, _please_ ; fuck me, fill me up, _please,”_ Will pants against his lips, breath spilling hot across Nigel’s face and mouth. 

He could sustain himself on Will’s tender, fevered cries forever, but Nigel _wants._ He wants Will more than he’s ever wanted anything, even his miserable, cheating ex-wife. 

Nigel rips his fingers free from Will’s hole and spits into his hand, brushing Will’s hands away to wet his dick, then lifts his boy using one hand and lines up his cock with the other. He lets the head slide across Will’s pliant rim several times just to watch how his eyelashes flutter against his blood-flushed cheeks as he bites his lip and nods his encouragement. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he pushes into him, Will’s body parting willingly around the thick intrusion and letting out an _exquisite_ whimper at the sensation. “This what you wanted, gorgeous? Did you just need your uncle’s thick cock up inside you to get you all soft and quiet?”

Nigel is surprised, though perhaps he shouldn’t be, when Will doesn’t just sit complacently, but starts up a quick pace, bouncing himself up and down on Nigel’s dick like he was born to do it. Like he’s being fucking _paid_ to take cock. Both of his hands return to their death grip on Nigel’s shoulders, clinging to him for stability and support like a buoy in a tempest-tossed ocean. And it seems Nigel’s teasing inquiry is the only thing needed to open the floodgates, because only a breath later Will’s words begin to flow out of him in a stream of consciousness, as though his tongue has tapped straight into the deepest part of his mind.

“So good,” Will cries against Nigel’s mouth, claims his lips again in a bruising kiss. “Knew you’d be big. That you’d fucking split me open,” Will taunts, dropping down on Nigel’s lap and grinding in place, letting himself adjust to the feeling of being stuffed full. “ _God,_ you feel good. Can feel you so deep inside. So fucking _deep._ ”

Nigel doesn’t give him much time to catch his breath. He holds his hips and slams up into him, his thrusts fast enough that he makes sure Will is never left empty. He captures the boy’s mouth with teeth and tongue, swallowing down his frantic whines. He gives Will’s tongue a warning nip when his hands turn to claws and scrape viciously at Nigel’s bare arms, though he’s secretly pleased at this display, can’t help fantasizing already about all the increasingly depraved ways he will force his boy to lose complete control; devolve him to a sobbing, writhing, ferocious _mess._

“So tight,” he praises Will again when their mouths part. “So hot and perfect for me. _Fuck,_ Will, you’re so _tight_.”

“Wanted to do this for _days,”_ Will whimpers, matching each of Nigel’s punishing thrusts with a filthy grind of his own. 

Nigel laughs at that, unsurprised. Thinking back on the last several days at the brownstone, Will has paraded around in fewer and fewer skimpy articles of clothing, culminating in today’s attire once his dad was gone. The thought of Hannibal makes Nigel pause. “Yeah? Wanted to fuck your daddy’s double, baby? Bet you didn’t know dick could be this good, hm?” 

Will’s eyes roll back in his head, but Nigel decides not to push on that particular door too hard just yet, his jealousy simmering far too closely to the surface while he’s buried to the root in the boy writhing on him. Perhaps something to explore later. 

Nigel digs his fingers into Will’s hips hard enough to bruise and grinds him to a halt against him, holds him down while he thrusts up into him hard and fast, watches the boy’s shoulders shake as he nearly sobs in pleasure, his curls plastered to his temples with sweat. He looks beautiful. 

“Such a pretty boy, darling. All soft lips, and baby blues and the perfect, tight little ass.” Nigel slaps his ass in emphasis, grins wide when Will whines at the sensation and clenches tighter around Nigel’s shaft. A slut _and_ a baby masochist? Nigel is going to have _fun_ with his nephew.

“I’m gonna -” Will’s voice is high and strained, his words interrupted by a pitiful whine as he simultaneously clings tighter to Nigel and allows the rest of his body to fall completely pliant to him. “Oh, Jesus Christ - I’m gonna come, I’m - fuck, please come inside me. _Come_ ; do it now, _please._ I’m, I’m -”

Ten seconds ago, he wouldn’t have thought it possible to come so soon. But hearing Will’s voice - hoarse with his moaning and whining and yet still _so_ sweet - uttering those words, Nigel’s hips work double-time as he drives up into the boy frantically. 

Soon, Will gives a shuddering cry and curls into Nigel’s form as his cock spurts his release between them. It soaks the hem of the _Negură Bunget_ band t-shirt Will still wears, as well as the hem of Nigel’s own shirt and the front of his jeans, but _fuck_ his boy feels so fucking good clenching around him, and Nigel can’t stop himself from digging his teeth into his nephew’s shoulder with a snarl and plunging deep one more time as his own cock starts to spasm.

“ _Oh_ ,” Will sobs into Nigel’s neck as his body quakes in his arms with aftershocks. “Oh, _yes.”_

“Like that, gorgeous?” Nigel growls out as he releases one more spurt of come deep inside his boy. “Like me filling you up?”

Will hums a contented sigh and nods before finally lifting his head to blink blearily at Nigel. His blue eyes are shining, sparkling with pleasure and wet with unshed tears; his lips are swollen and red, the plump, bottom one caught between his teeth as his mouth curls into a lazy smile. There’s a fine tremor running through his hands when he reaches up to push away the hair that has fallen into Nigel’s face.

“Thank you,” he sighs. “That was perfect.”

Nigel’s own lips split into a grin. What a sweet fucking set-up he’s stumbled into; rent-free room in a house that’s actually _clean_ , with good _food_ in the fridge and a tight little slut that’s hot for uncle who _begs_ to be fucked hard and dirty and then _thanks him_ for the privilege.

“My fucking pleasure,” he replies honestly.

Will chews at his bottom lip, his eyes darting between Nigel’s eyes and mouth for a few seconds before he seems to screw up the courage to lean in and press a sweet, chaste kiss to Nigel’s lips. “I need a shower,” he announces, and then deftly strips off Nigel’s t-shirt, tosses it somewhere over the back of the couch.

With the shirt no longer obscuring his view, Nigel can’t help but glance down to where he’s still buried in his nephew, lace panties still tugged out of the way and sodden with spit, come and -

“You’re bleeding,” Nigel points out, surprised by the sudden burst of shame and regret that twists his stomach.

Will glances down and then gives a careless shrug. “Only a little. It doesn’t hurt.” Nigel raises a skeptical eyebrow at that and Will grins. “Much,” he amends. “Next time we’ll use lube. Maybe get in some more fingers first.”

He winks at Nigel and then begins the process of extricating himself from the man’s lap. Nigel’s still staring at the boy as those words bounce through his skull like an echo contrived to drive him mad with desire. 

_Next time. Next time. Next time._

The boy’s knees buckle as soon as he’s standing, and he’s quick to drop his hands to Nigel’s thighs to keep himself upright. “Maybe a bath,” he amends with a soft laugh, releasing his hold on one leg to tug his panties back into place - presumably to stem the flow of Nigel’s release slipping out of him. He pushes himself up then, takes a few staggered steps back - legs shaking like a newborn foal - and then pauses, casting a considering look in Nigel’s direction. “You know...the master bathtub is _huge_ . Almost _too_ big for just one person.”

If Nigel were a bit younger, that seemingly innocuous statement probably would have him hard all over again. As it is, he can feel the first stirrings of arousal rekindling low in his belly, as if just the sight of this skinny, mostly nude boy was enough to fan the smoldering embers back to life.

Nigel grins at that, feral and wide. “That fuckin’ right, gorgeous?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai


	3. Bubbles & Blow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re distracting me. There’ll be no water if you don’t stop, and then we’ll have to start all over again.” Will murmurs dreamily. He feels dazed, almost high from the euphoria of being so close to the man._
> 
> _Instead of letting go, Nigel bends Will at the waist over the tub, Will’s face mere inches from the water still in the basin. Nigel leans around Will to re-stopper the drain, stays in place for several seconds and lazily grinds his still soft cock against Will’s plump ass._
> 
> _“You make me want to devour you, darling. Consume you until there is nothing left,” Nigel growls into Will’s ear, breath stirring the sweaty curls there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the next time stamp super early because we know quarantine is stressful! 💚💜

Will’s legs are still trembling finely as he stands in the study; his hands feel heavy and awkward where they hang down at his sides, but he refuses to even fold them across his chest, unwilling to appear as though he’s attempting to cover himself. He struggles against the urge to shift his weight or fidget self-consciously, all the while _painfully_ aware of how frantically his heart is still slamming against his ribcage. He meets Nigel’s gaze - amber eyes flashing with an emotion seemingly balanced on a knife’s edge of amused delight and covetous hunger - and forces his lips to curl into a coy smirk.

Incredible, how only twenty minutes ago he had taken the form of a creature so bold and self-assured that he’d climbed straight into his uncle’s lap and rode him hard, yet now in the aftermath of such an event he feels his face flaming as he makes the innocent, almost _childish_ suggestion of sharing a bath.

The heat in his cheeks spreads to his ears when Will feels the seat of his lace panties growing damp and tacky as gravity does its job and Nigel’s come slowly slips from his sore, tender hole. Silence stretches between them for a moment long enough to give Will time to feel foolish, awkward, panicked, and eventually to consider rescinding the invitation altogether before slipping away quietly in shame and despair. But then finally, _finally,_ Nigel stands from the couch, pushing his softening cock back into his jeans almost as though it’s an afterthought, and saunters up to Will.

His eyes trail slowly over Will’s form, lingering first on his eyes, then lips, and lastly the soiled panties that are now clinging filthily to his skin. In an instant he dips down and scoops Will up off the floor; Will barely even has time to let out a startled gasp before his limbs are wrapping instinctively around the rough man and clinging to him tightly.

He can’t help but let out a moan - that, if he’s honest with himself, is more than a little relieved - when his uncle captures his lips for a brief, hungry kiss and then growls against his mouth, “Well let’s fucking go, then.”

He also can’t hope to quell the surge of giddiness that pulls an actual _giggle_ from him, and promptly buries his grinning face into Nigel’s neck as the older man’s own chuckle rumbles through him and he begins the task of transporting Will from their current location to the master bathroom.

Nigel’s clothes are rough and scratchy where they rub against Will’s naked skin, and the friction chaffes uncomfortably. But even so, Will can’t help but burrow closer to the solid strength of his uncle’s torso, shiver at the evident strength in his thick arms as they support Will effortlessly. He smells like tobacco, booze and _sex,_ and Will can’t get enough, nuzzling his face against the man’s neck and shoulder and greedily breathing him in. A hollow pang thrums through him at the thought of their combined scents disappearing, washed away in their impending bathing session, and Will resolves to make Nigel smell like him all over again once the two of them are freshly washed and dried.

The older man pauses when they reach the bathroom, and Will pulls his head back to gaze at his uncle. They stand static together for a few moments, regarding each other in silence, and then lean forward simultaneously until their mouths brush together once more. It begins softer than any kiss they’ve shared thus far, lips slotting together gently for a moment before their tongues venture out to taste. It’s the sort of kiss that leaves one’s mind fogged with a euphoric haziness - not that Will has any first-hand experiences to compare it to. He doesn’t need to, he just _knows;_ knows that what’s happening between them is the most singular, extraordinary moment that mankind has ever achieved.

They both give a soft sigh when they part, warm and content, and then Nigel’s grasp on him loosens and Will’s finds himself sliding from the man’s body until his feet are firmly planted on the cool tile floor. He allows his arms to linger around Nigel’s neck for just a bit longer before finally pulling those away as well, sliding his hands across his shoulders and down his chest briefly before stepping away to see to the bath.

Will doesn’t bother with any of the fragrant oils his dad keeps stocked on a small shelf near the tub - doesn’t want any scent to linger on Nigel’s skin but his own after this. He simply runs the water until it proves to be a desirable temperature and then plugs the tub and turns back to his uncle.

He falters and freezes when he does, feeling exactly like a deer in the headlights as his swimming mind absorbs the fact that Nigel has divested himself of his own clothing while Will was occupied, and then quickly scanning over the man’s nude form to catalogue every firm muscle and wiry hair.

Nigel closes the distance between them, because Will’s legs seem to have grown mutinous and refuse to move. He reaches out with rough, calloused hands and skims them down Will’s flanks - currently heaving with his ever-quickening breaths - until he reaches Will’s slim hips. His fingers tighten there briefly, and Will is suddenly _very_ sure he’ll be bearing bruises in the shape of his uncle’s fingertips before long, and then slip down a bit farther to push Will’s soiled panties from his hips.

Will grows bolder with contact initiated, and reaches out himself to wind his fingertips through the coarse rug of hair that covers Nigel’s chest, slips them through the pelt, utterly fascinated by it. Will has never before considered body hair as something to be found erotic, but seeing the hair that stretches across Nigel’s torso and dips down in a seductive line to the pubic hair that surrounds his thick, uncut cock is almost _unbearably_ arousing.

All the while, his uncle’s hands are embarking on their own expedition, mapping out the slender shape of Will’s frame, gliding over his nearly hairless chest, brushing teasingly over his nipples, tracing over the distinct outline of his ribcage. 

“You’re too skinny,” Nigel complains, large hands circling Will’s waist and squeezing for emphasis. 

Will jerks his shoulder in a shrug, immediately feeling self-conscious, though he’s certain that wasn’t his uncle’s intent. Still, it’s difficult to pass off the comment, since it’s one he’s heard from his father more than once as of late. “Okay, _daddy.”_ He plays it off as sarcastic, heart in his throat. “I haven’t really been eating much protein lately,” he murmurs, feeling completely dodgy even as the words are leaving his mouth. 

“Fuck’s sake, don’t tell me you’re turning into one of those pussies that doesn’t eat _meat.”_

“No, no,” Will denies quickly with a sharp laugh. “Nothing like that. I just...I just don’t really have a taste for it right now.” He knows even as he says it that it sounds absurdly evasive and vehemently hopes Nigel won’t inquire further on the matter. He has no idea how he’s expected to go about explaining he’s not entirely sure he approves of the _type_ of protein his dad is keen on serving.

“Growing boy like you should be eating everything that’s put in front of him,” his uncle chides but then, _thankfully_ , leaves it at that. “Leaves you light enough to do _this_ at least,” he muses out loud, and then scoops Will up once more and has him pressed against the cold tile of the bathroom wall before he even has time to gasp.

Nigel drinks down the startled squeal that falls from Will’s lips and then the subsequent moan as he slots their hips flush together and their thickening cocks make contact. They rock their bodies together like that, sucking and nipping at one another’s lips and tongues. Will is already hard again, his youthful stamina in full force, and he’s amazed that Nigel is already getting there as well, relishes in each twitch of the man’s dick he can feel against his own, in the slick dribble of precome that he’s smearing into Will’s skin.

“ _Fuck!”_ Nigel releases his hold on him, dropping Will to the ground, the boy quite confused until his feet make contact with the water-soaked tile.

“Aw, Christ,” he snarls, rushes over to the bath to turn off the tap and reaches in, pulls out the stopper and starts the process of draining some of the water out. “You distracted me,” he accuses his uncle, though finds even as he’s passing the blame that he doesn’t really care. It just means more time together for them.

Nigel slides his arms around Will from behind, wraps him in a tight embrace that makes him feel safe and cared for; this dangerous creature brought to his knees - if not _yet_ literally - for Will. 

“Uncle Nigel,” Will chides playfully, leaning into the embrace while he waits for the water to drain down. 

Nigel hums in reply, nuzzling Will’s nape with his face, scenting him like an animal and Will _shivers_ at the implication of ownership. 

“You’re _distracting_ me. There’ll be _no_ water if you don’t stop, and then we’ll have to start all over again.” Will murmurs dreamily. He feels dazed, almost high from the euphoria of being so close to the man. 

Instead of letting go, Nigel bends Will at the waist over the tub, Will’s face mere inches from the water still in the basin. Nigel leans around Will to re-stopper the drain, stays in place for several seconds and lazily grinds his still soft cock against Will’s plump ass. 

“You make me want to devour you, darling. Consume you until there is nothing left,” Nigel growls into Will’s ear, breath stirring the sweaty curls there. 

The words make Will think of his father, of the way he has always provided meat for their table and the aura of danger he seems to radiate - not that the Baltimore elite seem to notice. His stomach clenches at the thought of being totally at Nigel’s control, and he pushes himself more firmly against Nigel’s groin in an attempt to rile him. 

Nigel snarls and nips at his ear, pulling himself away with a groan of protest echoed by them both. “Get your cute little ass in the tub, sweetheart. Before I fuck you bent over it just like this.” As if to emphasize the threat, Nigel keeps Will held in place with a hand at his lower back, two fingers from his other hand sinking back into his aching hole. He plunges them deep a few times before he pulls them out and smears them, wet and tacky, across Will’s hip. _“Now, Will.”_

Will scrambles to obey, righting himself enough to climb into the water, the warmth sinking into his bones, his muscles going lax immediately. He sits in the middle, waits for Nigel to join him and, when he does, he settles into his lap, his back against a firm wall of muscle in the form of Nigel’s hairy chest. 

Nigel moves behind him, and Will’s unable to turn around fast enough to see what he’s doing, but within seconds he smells the spicy, heady scent of cloves and bergamot, his father’s favorite bath oil. 

Except it isn’t the standard bath oil Nigel manages to grab, it’s the bubble bath Will purchased for his father as a gift, accidentally grabbing the wrong bottle in his rush to get home, the delicate emerald green glass sitting unused until now. 

He knows Hannibal will notice when he returns home and his heart pounds faster in fear and in something more that he’s not quite ready to examine too closely just yet.

The effect of the bubble bath is immediate, Nigel swirling his hand through the water as he pours the liquid into the tub, churning up fragrant bubbles all around them. Will giggles, settling comfortably into Nigel’s arms. 

They curl together for several long minutes, content to simply exist within the same space, bodies pressed tightly together. Just as Will lets his eyes slip closed sleepily, he feels Nigel’s cock stir beneath him, rubbing against his lower back under the water. 

Will smirks and subtly moves back against Nigel’s erection, nearly whining with pleasure when it slips between his cheeks to glide smoothly along his crack until the head finally catches on his rim. The water is slick where it slides against their bodies, a slightly oily sheen along the surface from the bubble bath. Will puts a hand on the side of the tub to brace himself, being more obvious in his ministrations as he grows bold once again. 

“Gorgeous, if you keep rubbing against my cock like you’re dying for it, I’m likely to take you right fucking here,” Nigel threatens lowly, and Will feels his entire body shiver with anticipation. He _wants._ He wants Nigel to lose all control, to take him forcibly, with animal passion and need. He sways his hips beneath the water, letting out a little moan of pleasure when Nigel’s fingers sink painfully into his hips. “You’ll remember I warned you, sweetheart,” is the only warning Will receives before he’s being lifted just enough that Nigel can aim himself before he’s breaching Will, sliding inside of him like he belongs there. 

“Fuck,” Will whimpers, the pain unignorable. It hurts, his rim still sore and a little swollen from earlier, his insides being forced to part around Nigel’s thick shaft. But he loves it, loves knowing that _he_ did this, that the temptation of Will’s body forced Nigel to succumb to his baser needs. 

“So tight, baby. Fuck, you’re fucking made to take cock,” Nigel doesn’t hesitate, his thrusts turning harsh and frantic nearly immediately, splashing water over the sides of the tub to spill onto the floor. 

“Uncle Nigel,” Will grinds his hips back to keep time with Nigel’s thrusts, nearly desperate with his need to be filled, to be used. _Fuck,_ he’s only just been fucked for the first time twenty minutes ago, but he’s already absolutely addicted to it.

“Like that, sweetheart?” Nigel grunts as he rolls his hips up into Will, their skin slapping together lewdly beneath the water. 

Will lets his head drop back to loll lazily against his uncle’s shoulder. “ _Yes,_ fuck -” Will gasps, working his own hips in a frantic attempt to keep pace with Nigel’s rhythm. “ _Oh, yes -_ that’s -” Will lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine and writhes against the man beneath him when he suddenly goes still. “What - don’t _stop! Please,_ Nigel.”

His uncle merely shushes him, smirk pressed to Will’s ear as his large hands tighten on Will’s hips and hold him in place. “More I think about it, more I’d like to bend you over something, hold you still and fuck you hard. See how much fucking cock you can _really_ take. Get up, darling.”

“Later,” Will moans, wiggling in Nigel’s grasp in an attempt to gain some friction.

Will can’t stop the shiver that spills through him at the sound of Nigel’s snarl, gasps when the man tightens his grip on Will’s hips, pressing more bruises into his pale skin. “When _dangerous men_ like me give orders, pretty little boys like _you_ would do well to obey them. Trust me gorgeous, you won’t like the consequences otherwise.”

Will clenches around the cock buried inside him defiantly, and Nigel snarls again and forcibly hauls Will off his lap. He whimpers at the abrupt sensation of _emptiness,_ and Nigel gives a low chuckle and maneuvers Will with such ease he may as well be a sack of feathers, until he’s been turned around to face him. A hand slips into his curls and then tightens painfully, yanks him forward until Will’s face is hovering just before his uncle’s. 

“I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart. I’ll fuck you hard and deep, fill you up just like you want, and I’ll do it just as often as I fuckin’ can. But in turn, _you_ need to do what I say, alright?” His voice rumbles out low and menacing, just _daring_ Will to disobey, but there’s a warm fondness flashing through his dark eyes, and his lips curl into an amused smirk. “You can do that for me, can’t you? Be my good boy?”

Will’s stomach clenches so tightly with burning arousal that it’s nearly _painful,_ his breath coming quicker and quicker, heart hammering in his chest. He’s turned on and terrified and suddenly _desperate_ for this man’s approval. “Yeah. Yes, I can. I can be good,” he’s nodding emphatically before he even realizes he’s doing it, straining against the hold Nigel has on his hair in an attempt to pull forward, close the bare _millimeters_ that still separate their lips. “I’ll be good, I will, I _promise.”_

“Good,” Nigel growls, and then pulls him forward to crush their lips together in a brutal parody of a kiss. “Now get out of the fucking bathtub.”

Will doesn’t hesitate again, though something dangerous and chaotic inside of him compels him to do so. Instead, he scrambles from the tub and drips water all over the tiled floor. He doesn’t have time to orient himself before he’s being grabbed and forcibly slammed against the sink counter, hard enough that he knows his hips will have bruises tomorrow, his entire body littered with Nigel’s marks. 

_“Fuck,”_ he breathes out, the air pushed from his lungs painfully with the force of it. Nigel chuckles darkly behind him, draped heavily across Will’s back and keeping him held down, his breath is warm where it spills across the nape of Will’s neck. 

“Open your fucking legs, little slut,” Nigel growls into his skin, bypassing his neck to bite fiercely into his shoulderblade instead, avoiding any easily visible marks with a precision that can’t be accidental. Will is certain it’s for the best, he can’t imagine Hannibal’s reaction without seeing blood. 

Will spreads his legs wide enough that his hips groan from the ache of it, arching his back and wiggling his ass against Nigel in an attempt to provoke him. He needn’t have tried to entice him, the man sliding into him until his hips are flush against Will’s ass, spearing him open around his hard cock. 

"Oh, Jesus - _God_ that's good," Will whines, tremors running through him as he adjusts to the feeling of being full again. His knees feel weak, and he’s certain he’d go crumpling to the ground if Nigel wasn’t pinning him so thoroughly to the counter.

"Fuckin' right," Nigel snarls; he rolls his hips against Will's ass, somehow manages to rock _even deeper._ "Darlin' I could fucking _live_ buried inside you." He pulls out and slams home once again, forcing a wail from Will’s throat, and suddenly there’s a hand tangling in his curls and wrenching his head up and Will is forced to meet his own gaze. “Look at you. Legs spread for your uncle, begging for his cock. Have you ever _seen_ such a perfect little slut?”

His face is flushed, his lips kiss-bruised and swollen, his jaw hanging open as he pants for breath. His eyes are wide, wild, and he has an overall expression that’s stuck somewhere between ecstasy and bewilderment. He shakes his head as best he can and watches Nigel’s animal smile.

“You’re gonna watch while I fuck you,” Nigel tells him, pulling back and sinking into Will as he speaks. “You’re gonna watch me come inside you, but you don’t get to come just yet, baby.” Will opens his mouth to protest but catches the reflection of Nigel’s hard eyes and wisely stays silent.

Nigel pulls up until he’s standing behind Will and then begins fucking him in earnest, long, smooth strokes that spread Will wide and fill him deeply. Will watches the way Nigel’s body rocks into him, watches his uncle’s face as he gazes down at the place where he’s sinking into Will, jaw clenched tightly. He watches his own face, flush deepening and mouth gasping open and closed like a fish out of water. His eyes are wet and hazy, growing unfocused as the electric thrum of an impending orgasm builds beneath his skin.

 _“Gonna come, gonna come,”_ he hears himself chanting, but the sound is distant and muffled, like he’s hearing it through a thick fog.

Nigel yanks Will’s hips away from the counter and hooks an arm around him, seizing the base of Will’s cock and squeezing viciously to quell his release. Will lets out a frustrated sob, even though he knows that disobeying his uncle’s orders wouldn’t end well for him.

“Uncle Nigel, please let me come, _please, please, please,”_ he’s begging, sobs wrenched thick and ugly from his throat as his uncle holds him in place with his fingers wrapped around his neck and a hand on his cock, pumps into him and uses his body to get himself off. Will makes eye contact with Nigel in the mirror, sees the vicious grin pulling his lips up at the corners, and he _knows_ he will only find release when the other man permits it. 

“Love to hear you begging so pretty for me, baby boy. Why don’t you keep doing that and we’ll see what happens,” Nigel taunts him, his hips moving so fast that Will feels like he’s perpetually stuffed full, can almost feel it in his stomach. The idea tempts him, so he moves one of the hands clutched to the counter and flattens it out across the taut skin of his lower abdomen. He _keens_ when he can feel Nigel’s cock just beneath the surface, filling up his slim, smaller body enough to create a bulge _._ He imagines he can see Nigel’s cock moving beneath his palm. 

“You like that, sweetheart? Like being full enough of me that you can feel my cock in your stomach? Bet you can feel me _everywhere._ Beg me to fill you up like the little come slut I know you are, darling. Ask me for it,” Nigel teases, increasing his thrusts into a brutal, punishing cadence. 

“Please, Uncle Nigel, fill me up with your come. Get me all filthy again, wanna feel it dripping out of me,” Will pleads, trying to meet each of Nigel’s thrusts and maintaining eye contact in the pristine mirror. 

“You love being your uncle’s little whore, don’t you baby? Love having me buried deep inside, deep enough you’ll be feeling me for fucking days,” Nigel growls, bends low to bite again at Will’s shoulders, surely breaking skin. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk right by the time your daddy gets home? Do you think he’ll wonder what happened to you while he was away?” Nigel’s hips slap against Will’s ass with enough force that he can feel his teeth chattering. 

“Yes, yes, yes. _Fuck._ I’m just a slut, I love you inside me, want you like this all the time, just using me up. I don’t care if he knows, I don’t care who fucking knows, I _don’t care._ ” Tears spill down Will’s cheeks and he doesn’t try to stop them, past the point of embarrassment as Nigel releases his cock and presses him flat against the counter, a hand at the back of his neck to keep him down as his uncle pumps into him several more times before he stills, his cock twitching as he empties himself inside Will violently enough that he can _feel it._  
_  
_ “Such a good slut, gorgeous. Stay just like that, let your uncle keep his cock warm for just a minute,” Nigel nearly purrs against Will’s sweaty nape, hips flush against Will’s ass as he fills him with his release, occasionally grinding tighter against him. Will’s cock _aches_ with how hard it is, but he feels that on such a far removed level that it barely feels real. 

What could be minutes or hours pass and then Will’s on the floor, gazing at the eggshell-white of the bathroom ceiling. He doesn’t have time to collect himself or even take a breath before Nigel is sucking him down, taking Will’s cock all the way to the back of his throat and hollowing his cheeks around it, fluttering the muscles of his throat and moving his lips up and down his shaft. 

It would be mortifying how quickly he comes if he hadn’t been on edge for what feels like _days,_ spilling into Nigel’s mouth and staining his tongue white. Nigel doesn’t swallow, instead he moves up Will’s body and captures his mouth in a filthy kiss, passing Will his own come and pushing it into his mouth with a wet tongue. 

“Fuck, Will. You’re just so fucking _pretty_ like this baby, makes me wanna do all manner of horrible goddamn things to you.” Nigel pulls away and looks down at Will like he wants to destroy him. 

“I’d let you,” Will murmurs into the space between their mouths, trying to prop himself up on shaky elbows in an attempt to kiss Nigel again. Nigel meets him, cups a hand behind Will’s head and holds him close as they kiss, Nigel’s teeth nearly bruising on Will’s mouth. Something primal in Will is soothed by the possessive claim, preening that he has pleased this superior predator. 

“I’m gonna buy you a plug,” Nigel announces against his lips. “Something to wear under your cute little panties. Keep you stuffed full and open for me. Would you like that, darling? Always ready for me to slide inside? You could keep me inside you all day like that, even when you’re at school or out with your daddy, hm?”

Will shivers at the suggestion, his stomach twisting pleasantly when his uncle takes the action as a sign that his damp body has grown cold and settles the warm weight of his own body over him, his body heat radiating into Will’s flesh and warming him from the outside. “You’re not gonna grow a conscience at some point are you? Realize you shouldn’t be doing these things to me and abandon me, pretend it never happened?”

Nigel’s chuckle rumbles through Will’s body. “I know you just met me, love, but I fucking _promise_ you that’s never gonna happen. We’re just getting started, gorgeous.”

Will feels sated, content, absolutely _wrecked_ and still ready for more. If this is just the start, he wonders if there’ll be anything left of him at the end. When he sees the way Nigel smiles at him, all teeth and heat and animal _need,_ he wonders if he even cares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai


	4. Sweet & Savory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I like it rough with him,” Will agrees, presses closer to Hannibal and rests his hands against Hannibal’s chest, tilting his face up as though requesting a kiss. “But my daddy knows how to be gentle. And I like that too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!

Hannibal’s gaze remains locked on the frying pan in front of him when he hears the front door open and close, serenely stirring the glazing vegetables and pretending he’s not been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the newcomer. He knows the answer to the question even as he asks it - the stench of his brother’s cologne, come and cigarettes clinging to his boy like a second skin - but allows it to slide from his tongue all the same, stoic and cool, wholly uninterested.

“And where have you been all afternoon?”

Will sidles up behind Hannibal to peer over his shoulder, peeking at the contents of the pan before drifting over to the stove and flipping on the light to peer inside. “Uncle Nigel’s.” He gives a quick kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. “Lamb?” Hannibal confirms his estimation with a hum and can hear the smile in his son’s voice as he murmurs, mostly to himself,  _ “Awesome.”  _

“I hope you had a pleasant time. While  _ you  _ were wiling away the hours with my scoundrel of a brother,  _ I _ was  _ here _ , finishing  _ your _ packing.”

Will gives a huff as he dances away again, leans casually against the counter next to the stove. “I  _ told _ you my packing was done. I’d gotten everything I needed together.  _ You’re _ the one that insists I need to bring half of the study with me. Universities tend to have their _ own _ books, you know.” 

Hannibal is about to mention that they  _ don’t _ have first editions like Hannibal does, when Will continues. “Not to mention every thread of clothing in this house that fits me. If I bring my entire wardrobe I’ll have nothing left  _ here _ to wear when I come to visit.” There’s a beat of silence, and then more words spill out around Will’s coy smirk. “...Unless that’s the  _ plan.” _

Hannibal tosses his son an exasperated glance. “Go shower before dinner, you absolute horror.”

Will doesn’t respond to that, but his teeth find his bottom lip and the edges of his mouth twitch into a grin as he turns away and saunters from the kitchen to take his shower.

\---

Hannibal is pleased to find himself in better spirits once Will smells like  _ Will _ again, and the two of them enjoy a pleasant meal together - one which Will has, with morbid humor, dubbed their  _ Last Supper. _

_ “I _ see now why you claim you’re gonna miss me,” Will teases when Hannibal puts him to work drying the dishes as he washes them. “You’re just gonna miss having someone to pick up the slack around here.”

Hannibal smiles despite himself, quirking an eyebrow at the boy next to him. “In order to miss such a thing it would need to occur more than once every seventeen years.”

Will sticks out his tongue at that, and Hannibal is about to comment on the  _ youthfulness _ of the gesture, and how lucky the elite at Georgetown must consider themselves to be adding such a sophisticated individual to their ranks, when Will twists his head away as he sets down the dish in his hands and Hannibal’s eye fall to the boy’s neck, to a livid mark that hadn’t been there during breakfast that morning. His hands are still dripping and soapy when he reaches out to capture his son’s chin, tilting his head for a better look and tugging down the collar of his t-shirt gently.

Will’s cheeks darken under his scrutiny, and jealousy clenches hot and fierce in Hannibal’s stomach as he sees the marks that litter the base of his son’s throat and trail down his chest. “Those will be bruising by morning,” he points out, managing to keep his tone even and not accusatory.

Will’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, but he doesn’t pull from Hannibal’s grasp. His dark lashes flutter as he peers up at his father, a slight frown turning his plush lips down. “He wanted to give me something to remember him by.”

_ “Brute.” _ Hannibal bites out, regrets it when the word makes Will flinch. He makes a soothing sound and tilts Will’s chin higher, dipping his head down to press his lips to the love bite that lingers at the base of his throat. “I know you’ve told me before that you like him that way,” Hannibal concedes softly. “I want you to have what pleases you. But it pains me to see my boy treated so roughly.”

His son sighs and presses into the hand at his cheek, eyes fluttering closed peacefully for a moment. Then Will’s blue eyes are pinned upon him, his soft lips twisting into a small smile. “I like it rough with him,” he agrees, presses closer to Hannibal and rests his hands against Hannibal’s chest, tilting his face up as though requesting a kiss. “But my  _ daddy _ knows how to be gentle. And I like that too.”

“And my  _ son  _ knows a thing or two about manipulation. How did that come about, I wonder?”

Will’s lips spread into a grin. “Learned from the best,” he purrs, pushing up to his tiptoes to brush their mouths together in a chaste kiss as he whispers  _ Ripper  _ against Hannibal’s lips. “Anyways, is it  _ really _ considered manipulation if you can see right through it,  _ daddy?” _ When Hannibal doesn’t respond to that, Will graces him with another soft kiss. “Take me to bed, yeah? Show me exactly how much you’re gonna miss me.”

Hannibal doesn’t need to be told twice, accepting the soft command coming from the only person he would ever allow to give him one. He leads Will to the master - to the room that has been  _ theirs _ for the last few months. After the first time they’d been intimate, when Will had slept in that king-sized bed between him and Nigel; he’d never left it, sauntering in with unwavering confidence night after night, as though he were simply  _ expected _ to be there, climbing into bed and snuggling up against his father like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like Hannibal, his bed, and his very soul were  _ his.  _ Even Hannibal can admit to the truth in that. Will’s own room sat at the end of the hall, bed unused, the space essentially repurposed into an oversized closet.

He captures Will’s plush mouth in a gentle kiss as soon as they reach their destination, one that begins soft and chaste but grows in intensity as their tongues enter the equation, until his son is left red-cheeked and panting and looking almost bewildered in his desire.

Hannibal is silent as he works free the button on Will’s pants, unzips them and slowly drags the material down his slender hips and full thighs, letting the material pool around his ankles. Will’s feet are still bare after his shower, his exposed toes cool to the touch as Hannibal’s knuckles skim over them. 

He goes to his knees, slides his hands up along Will’s newly exposed flesh, tickles behind his knees where he knows him to be particularly sensitive, and then cups his ass through his boxers. Will gets impatient, hooks his thumbs into the underwear and pulls them down to join his pants, stepping out of the bundle of fabric. 

Hannibal stops Will’s hands from working at his shirt, traps them gently in one large palm. He rises again, shushes Will’s impatient huff with a kiss, smiling against his lips. “Patience, darling boy. You are a wondrous gift, let me unwrap you as such.” His hands roam Will’s clothed back, feeling the shift and motion of his muscles beneath the layers of fabric and skin. 

“Daddy,” Will whimpers, arching into Hannibal’s touch; a shiver runs through him as Hannibal raises his free hand to begin flicking the buttons of Will’s shirt open effortlessly. After two have been freed, Hannibal dips his head down to press gentle kisses to the livid marks Nigel has littered across his son’s throat and chest, reclaiming every inch of flesh for himself. 

“Your uncle felt as though he needed to place a physical reminder,” Hannibal murmurs into Will’s soft skin, fingers twisting open another button and pushing the fabric from Will’s shoulders - still slight, but growing broader as he reaches adulthood. “They’ll fade in the span of a week,” he brushes kisses up Will’s throat, bared so willingly for him, until he reaches his son’s pouting lips. “Then who will you belong to?”

_ “You,” _ Will sighs against his mouth, and Hannibal growls his agreement.

_ “Yes. _ Me. Only me.” He makes short work of the remaining buttons and pushes the shirt entirely from Will’s frame, running his hands appreciatively over the new expanse of skin exposed to him. “Because I don’t need to leave love bites and bruises on you to remind you of my love, do I? My presence is marked in your very existence; my blood and breath, into  _ you.” _

Will whimpers, his knees buckling, when Hannibal reaches between them to fist his erection and give it a slow, teasing stroke. Will is already rock hard, leaking freely, and Hannibal is overcome with the desire to taste his boy as Will’s wetness slicks the glide of Hannibal’s hand. He whines when Hannibal releases him, and Hannibal shushes him with a gentle kiss to his red, pouting lips.

“On the bed, sweet boy. Stretch out and get comfortable for me.” He watches his son comply, beautifully obedient, and begins to work at the buttons on his own shirt. “In the middle,” he directs softly as he folds his shirt in half and lays it over the armchair in the corner. “On your back, arms stretched above your head, please.”

Will is resplendent draped across their silk, lapis lazuli bed sheets, his creamy skin slowly gaining color as the pink blush that stains his cheeks creeps down his neck and chest. His cock rests heavily against his flat stomach, red and wet. Will’s unruly chocolate curls spill out from his head to frame it in a riotous halo; his slender arms stretched and bent above him and his legs splayed open wantonly -  _ invitingly  _ \- affords the boy a worldly, experienced demeanor as well as an almost childishly trusting innocence.

Hannibal pauses in the removal of his own clothing, pulling his phone from his pocket and unlocking the screen. Will startles at the first sound of the artificial camera shutter and then flushes further as he realizes what Hannibal is doing.

“If someone sees those -”

“No one will see them.” Hannibal assures him as he snaps another photo. “I would kill anyone that dared to have such prurient curiosity,” he adds, a savage, primal part of him pleased when the declaration sends Will’s chest heaving faster and the cloying and heady scent of his son’s arousal thickens. “I wish to capture you, just like this, and I assumed that you’d rather I take a few reference photos than pause the current proceedings so I can retrieve my sketchpad.”

“No,” Will whines breathlessly. “There’s no time. I  _ need _ you to touch me.”

“And I shall, sweet boy.” Hannibal affirms, abandoning his phone to the top of his dresser and beginning the process of removing his pants.

Will writhes and undulates against the bed as he waits, coy, enticing movements to hurry along Hannibal’s progress. He brings one hand down to drag along his chest, sighing sweetly as his fingers graze his nipple teasingly before moving further down his torso. His eyes are closed as though in ecstasy, head tipped back and lips parted for his quickening breaths. Hannibal knows Will can feel his presence, though; notes the way the mattress dips around him, lips curling into a slight smirk until Hannibal catches his hand just before it makes contact with his aching cock, and the smile falls as Will’s eyebrows furrow.

“That’s for me to touch, darling,” Hannibal informs him softly, raises Will’s hand to his lips before placing it back where it belongs stretched above his head. “You’re  _ all _ for me,” he reminds him, and Will arches into Hannibal’s hands where they trail teasingly over his chest and down his flanks.

He stretches over the boy sprawled beneath him, can’t stop his own satisfied smile as Will immediately attempts to wrap around him, to pull him closer and rise up to meet him. Hannibal tuts softly, one firm hand on Will’s hip holding him still and the other reaching up to seize the boy’s wrists to keep his arms down. When he determines that Will is going to remain agreeable, Hannibal releases him and bends down to place his lips to his son’s forehead, his cheeks, his lips, and jaw, and neck.

He peppers soft, worshipful kisses down Will’s throat, swiping his tongue over his boy’s more sensitive spots and paying special attention once again to each bruise Nigel sucked into his flesh.

He continues his trail down Will’s flushed torso, his blush spreading in a lovely, cherubic flush down his neck and across his collarbones, Hannibal’s lips finally kissing skin that isn’t pink with arousal, but is no less warm for it. 

Hannibal dips his tongue playfully into Will’s stomach, smirking against his flesh as he squirms and giggles uncontrollably. Finally, he presses gentle kisses to each of Will’s too-prominent hip bones, promises himself he’ll make sure he is eating even more from now on, and then uses only his tongue to trace random patterns against Will’s lower abdomen. 

“Daddy…” Will’s voice is broken already, soft and hoarse like he’s been screaming. “Please don’t tease me. I want your hands.” His pleas sound like music to Hannibal, beautiful and melodious. He finds he doesn’t want to tease his boy too mercilessly, not tonight. 

He flashes Will a smile that’s mostly teeth, though not aggressive, and dips between his thighs, licking against the leaking head of his cock before he pulls back the foreskin to get even more. 

Will whimpers and whines but he stays still, performing admirably under the circumstances, so Hannibal stops his playful licking and instead engulfs Will in his mouth, taking his entire length to the back of his throat immediately. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Will sounds nearly distraught at the knowledge, his thighs shaking already where they fall on either side of Hannibal’s head. Hannibal knows he’s been on edge, but now he’s curious as to whether his brother had been cruel enough not to let their boy come earlier in the evening. 

Now that he was here, so close to the source, he could still smell Nigel’s seed clinging between his son’s thighs, even after his shower, could scent the musky smell of Will’s arousal and how close to the surface his orgasm was, but he found no trace of Will’s release. Nothing to indicate he’d come at all today. 

He pulls off Will’s cock with a filthy sound, licking his lips clean of precome. “Darling boy, did your uncle not permit you to find your pleasure? He only ever  _ takes  _ from you, doesn’t he, my love? Come for me, I want you to. I promise you we will not be finished just yet.” 

He returns to his task, teasing a few fingers along Will’s quivering inner thigh and behind his balls, pressing on his perineum even as he sinks back down onto Will’s shaft. 

It takes seconds only before Will is gasping his release into his fist, trying to remain quiet and obedient. His come coats Hannibal’s tongue and he swallows it all greedily, relishing in the taste of his son. 

“Good boy, that was perfect,  _ mylimasis.”  _ Hannibal showers Will with praise, but doesn’t stop touching him, doesn’t stop exploring the sweat-sheened surface of his skin. “Turn over for me, Will. Onto your stomach.” 

Will is still shaking through the last tendrils of his orgasm, but he finally manages to comply, pushing himself over and onto his stomach, legs still spread wide open and inviting. 

Hannibal spends some time tracing between his thighs, admiring the pale skin and slight muscle tone. He presses kisses into the crease where his thigh meets his ass, and Will mewls pitifully even at such a light sensation. 

With little warning, Hannibal parts Will’s cheeks and runs his tongue firmly across his flushed pink rim, can still taste the remnants of his twin on Will’s innermost flesh. The boy squirms in his grasp at the sensation, a soft mewl of surprised pleasure pulled from his throat. Hannibal repeats the action and then swirls the tip of his tongue around Will’s opening. Will is still pliant from his earlier activities, lax from his recent orgasm, and when Hannibal presses his tongue forward Will’s body accepts him eagerly.

_ “Oh,”  _ Will breathes as a shudder ripples through his body. His legs fall open wider, his hips rocking instinctively to push against Hannibal’s mouth. “Oh, that’s -” he gives a low moan as Hannibal slips a finger in alongside his tongue.  _ “Mmph!” _

He knows the exact moment his searching finger makes contact with Will’s prostate - apart from simply knowing his son inside and out - because Will’s limbs give a spastic jerk and he buries his face into his pillow and gives a muffled cry. Hannibal continues working his tongue into his boy’s hole, hastens the speed of the stroking caresses to the spot that has a low, constant groan rumbling from Will’s chest. He keeps up his ministrations until a fine tremor begins to buzz through his body, and only then does he relent.

When he turns Will over, he can see the wetness on the pillow from his boy’s tears, the dark stain on the silk sheets where his cock - hard again already - has leaked from his arousal.

_ “Daddy -”  _ Will croaks out, and Hannibal shushes him, moving up the bed and stretching the length of his son’s body.

“I know, my love,” he murmurs, wiping away the wet trails that stain Will’s cheeks. He leans down to press a soft kiss to Will’s plump, parted lips. Will chases after him as he pulls away, lifting his head and wrapping his limbs around Hannibal to draw him closer. “Just relax, sweet boy,” Hannibal urges softly as he captures Will’s hands and brings them down to the mattress. “You’re leaving tomorrow, Will. Let me take my time making love to you tonight. Just trust me; doesn’t your daddy always take care of you?”

_ “Yes,” _ Will admits softly. ”You’re so good to me.”

Hannibal retrieves the lubricant from the top drawer of Will’s bedside table, all while never leaving his position between his boy’s thighs. He slicks himself up, rubs some additional slick against Will’s already wet, lax rim, and pushes into him slowly, gaze caught by Will’s watery blue eyes until he’s buried as deeply as he can be. “You are everything, Will. My beautiful, brilliant boy.” He drinks down the gasp from his son’s lips as he rolls his hips against him, slipping his tongue in briefly for a taste. “I love you, and I will ache with how much I will miss you, but you have made me extraordinarily proud.”

Will looks beside himself with desire, his eyes impossibly dark as he leans his body even further into the mattress, attempts to drive Hannibal deeper inside. “Love you too, ‘ve always loved you.” 

Hannibal nearly growls his need into Will’s throat, but bites down on the desire. He wants to give Will  _ everything,  _ but tonight is meant for nothing but soft worship, all of Hannibal’s dangerous edges blunted for Will. 

“How would you have me, sweet boy? Shall I come inside you? Or mark you up with my scent from the outside?” 

“Inside, come inside, please. Wanna feel you,” Will’s voice trembles nearly as much as his body, his eyes fluttering closed as Hannibal brushes over his prostate over and over again, on the precipice of his release. 

Hannibal understands the desire, often considers ways he can have Will both inside of him and himself inside of Will, always. He wants to  _ devour _ his son, consume him until they are one. 

He couldn’t live in a world without Will’s smile, or his clear bell laugh, or the way his eyes go seafoam with his joy. So he’ll take the option that keeps them both alive and together and thinks, not for the first time, that he’d like to try having Will in an altogether other way. 

“I know you’re close, darling, but don’t come yet,” Hannibal wraps his hand around the base of Will’s cock, squeezing gently but persistently. 

Will’s distressed mewl pulls Hannibal forward, their lips pressing together as he kisses Will quiet. “I know, sweet boy. You must trust me to bring you pleasure, Will. I will take care of you,” Hannibal kisses him again, over and over until Will’s cries turn to those of rapture rather than desperation. 

It’s over sooner than Hannibal wishes, his orgasm hooking into his stomach and compelling him forward, his cock buried deeply inside his son as he floods him with his release. Will arches into him, bites his lips and moans his pleasure into the air they share between them. 

They stay like that for several moments, Hannibal enjoying the tight clench of Will’s body as the boy clearly tries to keep himself from coming, trusting his father to provide for him. 

“Touch me, please,” Will’s pleas are breathed into Hannibal’s mouth, their bodies pressed so close together that, for a moment, Hannibal can almost consider them one flesh. 

“I wish to have everything with you, Will. Do you want the same?” Hannibal shifts so that his cock slips from Will’s fluttering hole. Will’s thighs go tighter around Hannibal and he releases a quiet whimper, trying to keep his father within him for as long as possible. 

“Yes, daddy. Everything, always.” 

Will looks so sweet and pliant where he lays sprawled beneath Hannibal, framed by his arms. Hannibal can’t help but lean down again for another kiss, Will nearly purring with contentment. He stiffens when Hannibal reaches between them, then gives a soft whine when it becomes apparent he is not doing so to touch Will. Instead, Hannibal places fingers still slick with lubricant against his own hole, working two digits in quickly. 

It doesn’t take long to prepare himself - he’s not as concerned with his own comfort as he is when he prepares Will, and it’s not as though he’s totally out of practice, now that his dear brother is in town. He gives Will a cursory stroke or two, just to slick his cock slightly, murmuring a soft  _ don’t come _ against his lips, and then crawls up the bed so rather than being settled  _ between _ Will’s thighs, he’s straddling them instead.

“Oh my fucking  _ God,” _ Will groans when he realizes what Hannibal is doing. He’s barely positioned himself over Will’s cock and already his son is panting in aroused disbelief, his whole body trembling as he struggles against the orgasm fighting to drag him over the edge of a precipice. “Oh please, daddy,  _ yes -” _ he chokes on a gasp as Hannibal sinks down onto him, forcing his body to accept his boy and lowering himself until they are pressed flush together.

He stills then, reaching up to brush away the sweaty curls matted to Will’s forehead. Will’s eyes are squeezed shut, his hands fisted in the bedsheets at his sides, and Hannibal strokes his face soothingly and murmurs words of encouragement.

Hannibal could not possibly love him more than he does in this moment.

“Just breathe, my love,” he instructs softly, splaying one hand over Will’s sternum. “Good, just like that. It’s so much, isn’t it? For me as well. I’ve never felt closer to you. Tell me how you feel, darling boy.”

“It’s good,” Will almost sobs out, and when he finally opens his eyes to peer up at Hannibal, they are watery with unshed tears. “Feels like it’s where I belong.”

Hannibal bends down to capture his son’s lips in a brief, sweet kiss and then murmurs against them, “Anywhere I am is where you belong.”

_ “Yes. Yes,  _ daddy,” Will agrees on a shaky breath.

“I’m going to move now, darling. I won’t deny you your release, but I  _ would _ advise you to make this moment last as long as you can; it will be some time before we can do this again.”

Hannibal leans back and runs his hands down his son’s chest as he lifts his hips and then lowers himself slowly once more. Will doesn’t fill him the way Nigel does, splitting him open almost invasively - though the boy is clearly larger than average he does not quite possess the length and girth that the twins do - but he feels  _ right _ inside Hannibal; as though he was always meant to be there.

Brief, short circles of his hips keeps him full of Will’s cock, and he smiles to hear the whimpering pleas of his boy spread out beneath him, still so submissive, so  _ eager  _ to please. Hannibal loves him more than he’s ever loved anything. Would kill for him, die for him. Give him anything he ever asked, sweet thing that he is. 

“So good for daddy, sweet boy. You are exquisite; you feel perfect inside of me. How is it for you?” Hannibal’s words are nearly taunting, but he finds he truly wants to know. 

“So perfect, so tight inside,” Will whines, and the sound claws its way into Hannibal’s chest and propels him forward to capture a kiss from gasping lips. He keeps a steady pace, pulling up until Will’s cockhead is all that just barely remains inside his hole and then slamming his hips back down every few thrusts, taking Will deeply. 

It’s nearly overwhelming, his entire body alight with overstimulation as Will’s cock brushes against his prostate, each grind down of Hannibal’s hips forcing him deeper and deeper even as Hannibal’s body tries desperately to clench around him, force him out.

He keeps up the pace for several long moments, until Will’s body is writhing and squirming underneath his thighs, his chest heaving gasping breaths beneath where Hannibal’s hands frame his ribcage. “That’s it, Will. Come for me, my precious boy. I want to see your face as you fill me up inside with your release, coat me in your seed.” 

It’s as though he’d only been awaiting Hannibal’s permission, the command whispered between them as Hannibal captures Will’s lips in a bruisingly tender kiss, licks into his mouth to pull the sounds of pleasure directly from the source. 

Beneath him, Will’s hips give a jerk, his hands darting forward to paw at Hannibal’s hips until he understands the silent plea and stills his movement. He can feel his son’s cock, buried deep inside him, pulsing with his orgasm as a raw, bewildered moan cracks through Will’s chest. Hannibal shushes him softly, pressing tender kisses to Will’s parted lips as he heaves for breath after such an intense experience. When Hannibal shifts to lift himself off, Will grunts out a breathless whine, hands turning to claws where they still grasp Hannibal’s thighs.

“Don’t leave me,” Will begs, his brilliant eyes so wet they shine and his voice clogged with tears. “Please, daddy, don’t -” he squeezes his eyes closed, and the tears that brimmed them slip from the corners and trail down his temples. “Please don’t leave me.”

Oh, his sweet, darling boy.

“Never, darling,” Hannibal murmurs as his lips brush away the tear tracks that stain Will’s face. “You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here,” he presses a soft kiss to Will’s trembling lips and adds, somewhat reluctantly, “Nigel as well. Your uncle loves you deeply, just as I do. And we will never let you go.”

Hannibal maintains this direction, murmuring soft praise and assurance into his boy’s skin and sealing each one with a gentle kiss. His spent cock has grown soft, slipped from Hannibal minutes ago, but Hannibal remains a solid, stable presence above his boy. Eventually, Will’s quiet tears cease, and he dares to open his watery eyes to peer up at his father. 

“I don’t want to leave.” His voice is small, as meek as Hannibal has ever heard it, and his heart clenches for it. He smiles down at his son, brushes his thumb gently over Will’s cheekbone.

“And I don’t want you to go. But this will be a wonderful, new experience for you, my love, and I’m certain you would regret denying yourself that.” He shifts his body off of Will’s, turning to stretch out on his side and pulling Will into his embrace.

The way Will curls into Hannibal is reminiscent of a flower turning toward the sun. He arches his body closer, turns his face up in a silent demand for affection - affection which Hannibal relinquishes happily with soft, lingering kisses to his forehead, cheeks, lips. It reminds him of years long past, when Will still came to him frequently and openly for comfort. He holds Will close in his arms, runs his hands soothingly up and down the soft expanse of his back, and Will gives a quiet hum at the attention and buries his face into the crook of Hannibal’s neck.

“This is a time in your life when many things shall change, Will,” he tells his boy as he strokes a hand gently through his sweat-matted curls. “But  _ we _ are constant. Nigel and I...we’ll always be here for you, always support you, help you grow.” He drags his hand down to cup Will’s jaw, guides his face back up until their eyes can meet. “We will  _ always _ love you.”

Will’s soft, sleepy smile warms Hannibal’s heart, makes something deep and primal catch in his chest. “I know, daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
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> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai


	5. Razors & Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The water is warm and faintly scented, reminiscent of the first time they’d bathed together - the key difference being that they aren’t bathing together this time. Rather, Will is kneeling by the tub as Nigel’s leg hangs over the side. He'd tried to cajole the teen into performing this task from between Nigel's legs inside the tub, but Will had, rightly, pointed out that they were liable to get distracted if he did so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place directly before the last fic with Hannigram. This is why Will came home to his daddy all needy. ;)
> 
> Thanks to Dusk for the verse prompt and to Fishie for this specific installment idea

The water is warm and faintly scented, reminiscent of the first time they’d bathed together - the key difference being that they aren’t bathing  _ together  _ this time. Rather, Will is kneeling by the tub as Nigel’s leg hangs over the side. He'd tried to cajole the teen into performing this task from between Nigel's legs  _ inside  _ the tub, but Will had, rightly, pointed out that they were liable to get distracted if he did so. 

Will is dangerous in his beauty, the pout of his lips when he wants something, the glint in his eye when he gets it, and Nigel is just as helpless against the boy as his brother is. Will’s hands are soft, one cradling Nigel’s calf while the other drags the razor through the shaving foam covering his thigh. They’d already finished shaving the bottom of Nigel’s legs, all that remained was the thick hair of his thighs and, if Will got his way, his groin. 

“Watch it, gorgeous. Don’t wanna nick something down there and then miss out on the fucking of your life. Gonna fuck you so good you go home to your daddy smelling like me for days,” Nigel is nervous and he’s sure Will knows it; the boy has always been  _ far _ too perceptive - just like his father. 

Will presses a kiss to Nigel’s ankle, nipping at the flesh playfully as his eyes flash with something languid and pleased, a predator who knows his prey is in sight and holds no chance of escaping. “Uncle Nigel, I’ve been doing this for  _ years.  _ Don’t you trust me?” His nephew is a tease and a slut, and Nigel wonders how he found him. He feels cursed and blessed in equal measure. 

Will kisses him again and Nigel’s hand darts out of the water to tangle in Will’s curls, pulling him sharply enough to elicit a gasp of pained surprise. “Why don’t we put that mouth to better use, sweetheart?” 

Will’s grin is nearly feral, even as he sits pinned in the grip of a far more dangerous creature. “You’ll have your turn to play soon enough,” he promises, his voice soft and sultry and nearly  _ purring. _ “You said you’d let me have my fun first.” 

His pout is irritating, and manufactured, and Nigel is damned to admit that it still works on him every time. He releases the boy, settling back into the tub and pressing his thigh more firmly into Will’s grasp in supplication. “Get on with it then, darling. We’ve got a lot of playtime to get through if you still insist on being home for dinner.”

Crystalline blue eyes narrow slightly as Will peers at him, his tone a nearly astounding imitation of his father’s in that obnoxious  _ we’ve been over this before _ way they can both have.  _ “You _ get my last day,  _ he _ gets my last night. That was the deal.” His word is final, brooking no argument - also frustratingly similar to Hannibal - and he returns his attention to running the blade in his hand along Nigel’s thick thigh. 

Only the soft sloshing of water and the steady drag of the razor breaks the silence around them for a few minutes, until Will finishes with the first leg and moves onto the other, and then says, apropos of nothing, “We have to change your sheets when we’re done. There’s  _ nothing _ better than sleeping in clean sheets with freshly shaven legs.”

The declaration has Nigel’s lips twisting into a grin, arousal stirring warm in his belly as images of his nephew - nude, hairless, and twisting around in cool, silk sheets - fill his head. He doesn’t miss the  _ we, _ knowing Will is fully aware that if he doesn’t see to the task personally he knows that Nigel will never get it done. It’s one of those small considerations, one of those intimate truths that people learn about one another over time and experience, and it makes Nigel’s heart  _ ache _ in his chest.

Will knows Nigel better than anyone else alive, save for maybe Hannibal. If Gabi had grown to know such things about him, she’d never made an effort to show it. But that’s the thing about Will - he says what he’s thinking and does what he wants and unapologetically inserts himself into your life as it pleases him. Nigel had come to know that when he’d first met the boy; when a boy of sixteen had met his uncle, saw the potential for a good time and climbed right into his damn lap with barely any clothes on to make sure Nigel had no way of misreading the situation.

“Out,” Will directs, snapping Nigel back to the present moment.

He rinses the residue of soap from his legs and steps out of the tub, standing still and dripping on the bathmat as Will immediately sets to work drying Nigel’s legs with a towel from his position on the floor. When Will blinks up at him, eyes wide and lips parted, Nigel knows he’s about to be manipulated once again; doesn’t even attempt to stop it.

“Uncle Nigel, can I?” Will asks sweetly, and Nigel can only widen his stance as he sighs out a sharp curse in Romanian.

_ “Be. Careful.”  _ He growls, and Will moves instantly, as though he’d been fully expecting to get his way. He instructs Nigel to hold his mostly flaccid cock out of the way and then sets to work slowly rubbing the shaving foam over Nigel’s sack.

Nigel does his best not to move, reining in his breaths to slow, shallow things, as Will takes the razor to his testicles. The boy must be as skilled as he insists, because it’s over relatively quickly. Nigel doesn’t have it in him to watch, glaring at the wall next to him during the process. He only knows that Will’s finished with the delicate area when the boy’s hand returns full of foam for the rest of his pelvis.

“I’m going to look ridiculous missing all the hair below my waist,” Nigel grumbles as he folds his arms across his chest.

“You’ll look great,” Will insists in a confident murmur as he works. “And anyways, it’s not like anyone else is going to see you. Well,” he gives his head a twitch, a gesture to replace a shrug as his hands remain steady. “Maybe my daddy. But I bet he’ll love it.” His lips spread into a playful grin. “Plus, it’ll look bigger.”

“It’s already plenty big,” Nigel grumbles with a huff. He remains grudgingly still and allows his nephew to work, but when the boy directs him to turn around and brace himself on the counter, Nigel gapes down at him, cheeks heating with a flush. “No fucking way.”

_ “Everywhere,” _ Will insists.

Nigel is just glad that Darko isn’t around to see what a fucking pushover he’s become when that’s all it takes to get him to acquiesce to Will’s demands. He leans over the counter, plants his forearms and spreads his legs. He lets his head hang down, staring into his grimy sink because he’ll be absolutely  _ fucked _ if he’s going to meet his own gaze in the mirror as an eighteen year old boy shaves his fucking asshole.

Thankfully, it’s the quickest part of this whole process, a few easy swipes and a damp rag to clean him, and as soon as the cloth leaves him he makes to turn around, to finally fuck into his boy’s sweet mouth because  _ fucking hell _ he has no idea when he got hard during all this, but his cock  _ aches _ where it’s pinned against the bathroom vanity.

But the hand of Will’s that’s spreading him open doesn’t move, and then he feels the warm, moist puff of breath moments before Will’s slick tongue slides against him.

Nigel groans at the sensation, his legs spreading farther apart eagerly. This is  _ not _ something that they do often, and he forgets every time just how good it feels to have Will lapping at his hole, wet and sloppy in his eagerness. 

_ “Pula mea,” _ Nigel grunts in surprise, English escaping him for a solid minute.  _ “Da - linge-mă, drăguţă.” _

The boy is always so willing to please, so easily malleable in his desire to be  _ useful.  _ Nigel had used Will plenty in the past to reclaim his sense of self, his center of control, grabbing the boy by his hair and moving him between his thighs to lick at his ass. Will admitted to him once that he found it almost meditative, being used simply as a tool to get Nigel off. 

Nigel lets Will continue until he starts feeling too out of control, the smooth feel of his thighs rubbing together the thing that finally sets him off. He whirls, grabbing Will by his curls and pressing his nose to Nigel’s hard cock, smearing his pre-come over Will’s cheeks and chin, marking him. 

“Please - “ Will tries to pull away, tries to plead, but Nigel doesn’t even think his nephew knows what he’s asking for. 

“Little slut, you’re fucking filthy. So desperate for your uncle that you’ll lick my ass and still beg for more.” Nigel moves Will’s mouth back between his legs, rubbing his face roughly against his perineum and his ass. “That’s right, sweetheart. Put that mouth to good fucking use, like I said.” 

Will whimpers against him and Nigel can feel the vibrations through his hole and his balls, pushes Will’s lips even more tightly against him. He looks down between his thighs and sees Will already looking like a debauched fallen angel, his face shining with saliva and red from exertion and difficulty breathing. 

“Up,” Nigel growls, not waiting for Will to make an attempt to rise before he’s hauling him up by his hair. Nigel pulls him closer, uses his thumb to pull Will’s mouth open wide, his lips pouting as Nigel tips Will’s head back and spits into his mouth, using his thumb to smear it all over his pink, wet tongue. “Gotta get you ready to take my cock, don’t I baby? What do we say when someone does something nice for us, hm?” Nigel’s words are sweet, but his tone is anything but, nearly daring Will to disobey. 

“Thank you, uncle Nigel,” Will purrs obediently, his eyes glittering with mischief. Nigel yanks down so that Will is bent at the waist but still standing, uses his free hand to guide his cock past plush, swollen lips, and straight into Will’s waiting throat. 

He’s essentially jacking himself off using Will’s sweet, panting mouth, the boy dripping spit all down his cock to land thickly against the tile of the bathroom floor. “That’s right, let me use you just how we both know you like. Just a sleeve for my cock to rest in.” 

Will’s moans are loud in the room, reverberating off the walls and sending delicious vibrations along Nigel’s shaft. Nigel uses him relentlessly for several minutes before finally settling deep in his throat, blocking his airway and letting his cock twitch against his tongue. Finally, when Will starts to struggle in earnest, he pulls Will away from him with a mild level of disappointment, already missing the boy’s lips wrapped around him. “Alright, that’s enough, darling. I promised you a pre-dinner show, so that’s what you’re gonna get.”

“You gonna let me put ‘em on you, finally?” Will licked his lips clean of spit and pre-come while looking up at Nigel, still bent, his breath puffing out warm and far too tempting against Nigel’s still throbbing dick. 

“Come on, baby. Show me what you got.” 

\---

The lace feels different than Nigel anticipated it would; softer, not as scratchy as it looked settled against layers of tissue paper. He should have known his nephew would go over the top with purchasing the select few items he had been permitted to obtain for Nigel, a few light pink boxes with simplistic black script scrawled across the creamy stain tops housing a collection of lingerie that Nigel had never expected would be for himself. 

Will is kneeled between his thighs, pressing feather-light kisses to every inch of skin he can reach from his position as he drags the delicate black lace panties up Nigel’s legs and finally settles them against his hips, the cut throwing his hip bones into a sharper contrast than is typical. 

“You look so fucking hot already,” Will gasps, blinking up slowly at Nigel with inky, blown pupils before he leans forward to mouth against the slight bulge of Nigel’s soft cock beneath the lace. It sends a shiver down his spine, like ice-water, the furnace of Will’s mouth in direct contrast.

Nigel wraps his fingers loosely in Will’s chaotic halo of curls, not pulling him or pushing him, just grasping for something to hold onto. He feels the lace growing damp against his groin, finally does use his grip to pull Will away. “Making me all wet before we’ve even done anything, gorgeous. Why don’t you finish trussing me up, hm?” 

Will rolls his eyes and gives a long-suffering sigh before he nips playfully at Nigel’s hip, running his hands along Nigel’s now smooth thighs. “Gotta put the suspender on so we can hold up your stockings.” Will reaches into one of the open boxes and pulls out what Nigel has gleaned is essentially an elaborate belt, slips it up Nigel’s body until it settles around his waist. “You may wanna sit down for this bit,” Will suggests as he fishes the bundles of gauzy lace from the box beside him.

Nigel complies, perching on the edge of the bed and watching as Will grips one of his legs reverently, pausing to press another kiss to the top of Nigel’s foot before he begins to work the tube of fabric over his foot and up his calf. The thing extends nearly up the length of Nigel’s whole fucking thigh, and he marvels at the way it fits so snuggly around him; Will clearly knew what he was doing when he went shopping for something in Nigel’s size.

Will reaches up to hook the clips from the suspender around his waist to the top of his thigh-high stocking, front and back, tugging this way and that until he was, apparently, satisfied with the way it lay over Nigel’s thick thigh. He watches, silent and stoic, as Will repeats this process on his other leg, and then his boy is standing, beckoning Nigel to follow.

He leads Nigel to the full-length mirror in the corner of his bedroom, slotting behind him even though he’s barely tall enough to not be blocked out completely by Nigel’s form. Will hooks his chin over a shoulder and gazes at Nigel’s reflection, running a hand low across his belly where the lacy suspender sits and then down one of his clad thighs.

“Look at you. You look so fucking beautiful, Nigel.” Will places a tender kiss to his shoulder, to the curve of his neck. “How do you feel?”

Nigel gives a soft huff. “Ridiculous.”

In truth, he feels horribly  _ exposed, _ as though it’s his guts on display rather than his legs and cock shoved into some frilly get-up. He feels it like an itch he can’t reach, and his fingers twitch as he forces his arms to hang heavily at his sides, refusing to surrender to the almost unignorable instinct to fold them across his body, to cover the areas still exposed, hide those that Will saw fit to elevate to beauty.

Will makes a soft sound of dismay at that, placing another kiss to his bare skin, this time to the sharp line of his shoulder blade. “You shouldn’t.” His eyes pull up from where they’ve been focused on Nigel’s lower half in the mirror, raise higher and higher until those striking blue orbs meet his own in the reflection.

The sheer amount of desire, greed,  _ hunger _ that swirls there causes Nigel’s stomach to twist pleasurably, sends a tentative curl of confidence snaking through him, pushing aside his frazzled nerves. Will obviously finds him desirable like this; if it weren’t obvious in the near-desperate gaze he’s pinned Nigel with, the hard line of his erection pressed tightly to Nigel’s ass is a pretty good indicator. He feels a swell of pride knowing that he’s made Will happy, that he’s made Will  _ want _ him.

He wants, above all else, for Will to want him.  _ Always.  _ As desperately and achingly as Nigel always wants Will. He would consume him if he could, worries sometimes that he wants Will to a dangerous degree, that the boy can’t possibly survive the combined regard of the deadly brothers he’s managed to endear to him. 

But then he remembers that Will is a Lecter, just like they are. It’s in his blood and his bones to survive, to thrive, and he’s just as dangerous as either man. 

“Come here, darling. Let uncle Nigel get a better look at  _ you.  _ We’ve done enough staring at me,” Nigel doesn’t give Will time to obey, simply grabs him by his throat and hauls him to the bed, tossing him onto the mattress so he lands on his back with his legs spread wide. He’s on him in seconds, covering Will’s smaller body with his own, his mouth set to the pale column of Will’s throat as he bites and sucks his mark into him over and over again. When he pulls away Will’s neck and chest are covered in red, aggravated splotches that he knows will bruise a beautiful ochre within the day. Maybe even before he goes back to his dear daddy. Nigel grins at the retribution that promises. 

His hand curls into Will’s curls again, tipping his face up so that Nigel can steal his breath directly from the source, biting down hard enough that he tastes a bright burst of copper against his tongue and knows his teeth will be stained red when he pulls away. 

“You gonna fuck me? Make me all messy before you send me home?” Will’s grin is devilish, enticing, and Nigel wants nothing more than to  _ ruin  _ him. He moves his free hand to Will’s zipper and opens his pants, keeping his other hand firmly in Will’s hair. 

“Is that what you want, baby? Want me to fuck you up nice and pretty for your daddy?” Nigel slinks his hand into Will’s jeans, massages his hard cock skin to skin. Will isn’t wearing anything underneath, and when Nigel slips his fingers further in he can feel where Will is wet and open already. “Little whore. You’re just always wet and ready for cock, hm? So desperate to be filled up and used.” 

“Want you to come inside and all over me, mark me up with your scent and your come,” Will mewls, and Nigel is lost to his desire for the little nympho. He won’t deny him now, isn’t sure he even ever  _ could  _ deny the boy when he always begs so prettily. 

“Let’s get you out of all this, sweetheart. Wanna see your cute little cock all hard for me,” Nigel snarls as he rips Will out of his pants, isn’t much gentler with his shirt and then his boy is exposed to his predatory gaze; his skin flushes a pretty pink and his nipples pebble in the cold air. 

He wraps his hand cruelly around Will’s shaft, gives him several firm strokes before leaning close to breathe into his ear. “Don’t you dare fucking come. Sluts like you don’t  _ get _ to come; your only purpose is to please me and warm my cock.” 

Will’s eyes flutter closed and he bites his lip and Nigel wonders how much of it is an act and how much of it is his nephew being totally overwhelmed. He always says he loves hearing Nigel talk filth to him, and Nigel is more than happy to provide. 

“Yes, uncle Nigel. I’ll be good, I promise,” Nigel is met with hazy blues and he grins, nips at Will’s pouting bottom lip before he uses his broad palms to spread Will’s legs even further apart, making him look wanton and desperate. 

“You won’t like what happens if you disobey me,” Nigel growls, slipping more comfortably between Will’s spread open thighs. He yanks the delicate lace of the panties aside, frees the aching cock that had been trapped within them. He guides his cock to brush teasingly against Will’s wet, open hole and allows just the tip to slide in, laughing when Will lets out a little pleading whine and tries to spread himself wider until his hips pop uncomfortably. “So needy. How did I find such a thirsty little whore, hm?”

Will’s reply comes on a relieved sigh as Nigel pushes into him in earnest, sinking in and in until he’s buried as deep as he can be. It sounds a little something like  _ got lucky,  _ and Nigel hums, stilling deep inside his boy and allowing his hands to roam Will’s soft, milky skin. He can feel the brush of fabric pinned between their groins as he grinds their pelvises together, wonders if the sensation feels more irritating or erotic to Will.

“I’ve had my fair share of hardships, darling, trust me. Dealt with bullshit that’d keep you awake for  _ weeks.”  _ He lets one of his hands skim down Will’s flank, pets softly over his belly before trailing teasingly lower,  _ just  _ out of reach of the red, leaking cock laying hard against his tummy. “I used to think the people that talked about the balance of the universe, karma, all that bullshit… I used to think they were just full of shit. But I wonder, now, if maybe you’re my reward.”

He pulls out and glides back into Will in one smooth movement, too slow, it seems, for the boy gasping and clenching around him, bracing himself for more. Nigel leans down over Will as he bottoms out again, sucking another livid bruise to the base of the boy’s pale throat. Will always bruises so  _ beautifully _ for him.

“Were you sent to me, love?” He murmurs against Will’s flesh, places a nipping bite right on the heels of the previous bruise. “Are you here to forgive my sins, or make me atone for them?”

He’s distracted from his quest to mark every inch of the boy he can reach when Will’s fingers thread through his hair and gently tug his head up until their gazes lock, mouths only a breath apart, so when Will’s lips speak, every syllable is etched into Nigel’s own.

“I’m here to get fucked,” Will reminds him, his hips twitching up as though attempting to coax Nigel’s hips into resuming the job they are supposed to be doing. “Why are  _ you _ here?”

Nigel releases a low growl at the boy’s goading, pleased when Will’s cheeks flood with color, his pupils expanding as he clenches around Nigel’s cock. Nigel sets his teeth to Will’s collarbone and digs in, hands turning to claws around the boy’s slim hips, holding him still, trapped in place beneath him - just how the both of them like. 

“I’m here to make sure you don’t forget me when you go away,” Nigel informs him between bites and sucks to all the unmarred flesh of Will’s neck and chest he can reach. He finally breaks the restraint on his hips, rolling them with as much force as he can obtain in this position to fuck into the squirming boy below him. “Gonna mark you up, fuck you open, so you only see and feel  _ me _ for  _ days.”  _

_ “Fuck, _ I’m gonna come,” Will whines, and Nigel wraps a hand around his throat and the other around the base of his cock, squeezing them both cruelly as he pounds into the boy with renewed fervor. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Nigel growls, bending low to press a bruising kiss to Will’s lips as Nigel’s hips drive into him relentlessly. Will squirms beneath him, desperate and covered in Nigel’s marks, and it only elevates his desire more. He wants everything his boy can offer him, and then he wants to take  _ more.  _

“Be a good boy, gorgeous. Let me use you and fill you up just how you want. Maybe your dear old daddy will take care of you when you get home, but I doubt it. Sluts like you don’t deserve to come, Hell, you don’t even  _ need  _ to come. You like it just fine when you get all used up and left wet and gaping,” Nigel’s thrusts were powerful and jarring, Will’s body moving beneath him and the bed shaking against the creaking floorboards, thudding softly into the wall. 

“Come on, uncle Nigel, mark me up. Show me I’m  _ yours,”  _ Will rasps out and Nigel relaxes his hold on his neck, but his hand remains firmly wrapped around his cock, keeping his orgasm at bay. 

He stills inside his nephew, feels his cock start to pulse and then, at the last second, he removes his hand from Will’s cock entirely and wraps it around his own, pulling out and stroking his shaft so that the rest of his release coats Will’s cock and balls, slips between his spread open thighs and drips onto the bed beneath. His boy is covered in come, and Nigel doesn’t have the same sense of smell as his brother, but even  _ he _ can smell himself all over Will; the stench of sex and semen is nearly dizzying. 

Nigel pulls back, keeping one hand on Will’s hip to hold him steady as Nigel adjusts the lace panties back into place across his hips and covering his wet cock, a splotch forming on the front immediately. Will  _ tsks  _ mournfully at the destruction, but his eyes are glittering the same way they always do when he’s been well fucked, and Nigel’s sure he’s still more than a little out of it, especially since he hadn’t been allowed to come. 

His nephew reaches out to him, one hand sliding up Nigel’s stocking-clad thigh while the other lifts to caress the strong line of his jaw. Will’s delicate features darken, his eyebrows drawn together slightly in the ghost of a frown. His voice is soft and thick with emotion when he speaks. “I’m going to miss you. Every day.”

Nigel feels his own scowl forming and bends low to kiss away the pained expression on his boy’s face, no longer enjoying his distress now that the fun is over with. “You’ll be just fine, love. You’ll be home for the holidays, and I’ll come visit in the meantime.” 

Will’s expression grows devious as his lips twitch into a smirk, his fingers plucking at the lace wrapped around Nigel’s hips teasingly. “Send me some pics sometime?”

Nigel’s scowl deepens as Will’s mischievous grin widens. “We’ll see,” he grumbles noncommittally, but Will’s eyes shine as his smile turns pleased, certain already that his uncle would do anything to make him happy.

The boy doesn’t even know how right he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai


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